


Blessed Be The Star-Crossed Lovers

by Qion



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nyotalia, Romeo and Juliet AU, Slow Burn, and the whole fuckin ending, especially since some things are changed, except for like hungary, like all the family trees, like getting them to meet is its own novel, no need to know the original play to be able to get this, ok that looks like a lot but its just the nyotalia characters i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 119,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qion/pseuds/Qion
Summary: Romeo and Juliet AUIn fair Verona, falling apart under the all-encompassing rivalry of the families Vargas and Carriedo, love is a dangerous game to play. Luckily, Isabella Fernández Carriedo and Chiara Vargas don't hold things like danger in high regards.
Relationships: Austria/Prussia (Hetalia), Female Austria/Female Prussia (Hetalia), Female Germany/Female North Italy (Hetalia), Female South Italy/Female Spain (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Characters:  
> Prince Escalus - Brunhilde Beilschmidt (Fem! Germania)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)  
> Lord Montague - Andrea Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Portugal)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)
> 
> This might be a little confusing since there are so many characters, so at the start of each chapter, I'll have a character list of names and roles for anyone who appears! Sorry if it's still convoluted, but I was seized with the need to make a spamano romeo and juliet au in a cold sweat and cranked this out

Once long ago in the beautiful lands of Verona, peace graced the land under the iron fist of Queen Brunhilde Beilschmidt. The Queen ruled over her land with a cold judgement that swept through the vast city, terrifying all into obedience with enough strength to strike down the population she watched over. Her reign built Verona into a stronghold rich in agriculture and trade, powerful and unstoppable to any who may challenge it. 

However, her reign was not as cruel as it may first seem, for with the Queen came the powerful house of the famed military commander, Octavia Vargas. 

Settled in the heart of Verona after the glory of battle, Vargas became the force that lightened the air of the city for all. Her fervent support for the arts with the fortune earned from her victories inspired many to travel to Verona, guiding the city into a new era of fame and education under her cheerful, if not chaotic, hand. 

Alone perhaps, the rule of the Queen may have encouraged many to revolt or flee, but the barriers that Vargas had broken down left the citizens of Verona thankful for the iron protection that the Queen gave in the face of such change. Poets, artists and travellers alike all reveled in the lively aura that Vargas nutured while they walked without fear under the eye of Queen Brunhilde. 

It is in this balance between the Queen and Vargas that Verona blossomed into a powerful state, renowned by all across the land. And as Verona was reborn, the lines of Beilschmidt and Vargas too continued on to grow with the city. 

To the relief of all protected under Queen Brunhilde, Julchen and Monika Beilschmidt were born five summers apart, solidifying the rule of the line to protect Verona as the Queen had. Not one to be outdone, Octavia Vargas then emerged with the twins Marzia and Chiara Vargas, destined to uphold the power of the arts that flowed through Verona with the new heirs. Verona remained secure for a new generation, and both Beilschmidt and Vargas sent their children out into the little paradise they had fostered together. 

All was peaceful and should have remained such, if not for the arrival of Andrea Fernández Carriedo. 

With her family’s fortune inherited and a younger sister to take care of, Carriedo arrived during Verona’s flourishing season of art and leapt into the city with the eager hope of a young artist, desperate to spin her talent into fame. Payment came in easily with word of her skill with the brush spreading throughout the artists of Verona. Clients and fellow painters flocked to her doors in hopes of earning her business, following her styles and trends as she worked in comfort and sent her visions out into the world. Money grew into influence and Carriedo managed to carve out a slice of the town for herself and her beloved sister, brought to life by the spirit of the arts that the land was renowned for. Before long, Carriedo became one of the most powerful houses in Verona. 

Enough to challenge Vargas. 

The era of peace quickly faded, giving way to a period of intense rivalry that forced the Queen to lay down her rule harsher than ever before in order to stop Carriedo and Vargas from tearing apart Verona. Art still welcomed all in the land, but no longer could musicians and merchants alike walk through the narrow streets without fear of being drawn into a battle. Those not citizens soon fled the city, praying to get out of the restricting walls before they were taken as casualties in the fights that erupted within the streets. Both families now held the city in their grasps, slowly choking out the other despite the desperate attempts of the Queen to pry them apart. Verona had suffered and nobody now, neither Beilschmidt nor Vargas nor Carriedo, could predict where their beloved city could fall next. 

Nobody dared to hope that Verona could possibly recover, save for perhaps one Isabella Fernández Carriedo.


	2. Above Verona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Lord Montague - Andrea Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Portugal)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> Mutti - Mom  
> Idiota - Idiot

Verona was usually a lively town, filled with conflict and life from dawn to dusk; the untamed spark refusing to die out until the night came and forcing the smolders out to rest for a few calm hours. It was in these rare hours before the sun crept over the city walls, that Verona could find peace. 

The streets were still covered with layers of shadows, gently peeled back with the weak strands of daylight that started to coax life back into the very city itself. The heavy black of the night sky was slowly infused with strands of mellow pinks and vibrant oranges, chasing out the suffocating darkness to prepare for the arrival of the ever-powerful sun. Old windows and worn doors remained closed, the faded brick homes stagnant in the change that surrounded them. Later, they would fly open with the rays of the sun and let the citizens stream out into the wild hours of the day, starting the vicious cycle back up yet again. 

But for now, perched in the highest room of the Carriedo estate, Andrea settled for capturing this rare moment of tranquility. 

The canvas in front of her was filled with a plethora of colors, blending over strict lines and melding into one shade into another until the scene of the city before Andrea’s eyes had become a hazy dream town born from her paints. A hand already stained with bold reds and dark blues brought her brush across the sky, leaving behind a faint gold that called forth the looming sun. 

Up above the city, Andrea worked in peace before the dawn broke, watching over the land with the eyes of an artist set on searching for beauty in the life around her. Various other drying canvases filled the wide room, plastering the walls with snippets of times treasured from the past. The eyes of passing townspeople in the new spring and rowdy servants searching for a brawl alike watched Andrea work from stands scattered around the room. 

Here, Andrea was surrounded by the passion that she had chased all her life, and she could think of no better way to start off her day than by indulging that spirit once more. 

However, a quiet knock at the door forced Andrea out of her daze, setting her brush down and turning to peer at the servant who slipped into her sanctuary. 

“Hmm? Did I forget something again?” she hummed, laying her palette on the bench next to her. “I could have sworn I was free today.”

The woman at the door only smiled and shook her head. “Later, yes, but I’m afraid you have visitors waiting in the hall, Lady Carriedo.” 

Andrea froze, her hand still gripping the handle of her palette with a grip that was tight enough to drain the extra color splattered around her fingers.

“Now?” 

“Yes, my Lady.” 

“As in, right now?” 

“Yes, my Lady.” 

“As in, they’re inside and waiting for me to come down to greet them like a proper hostess, _right now_?” 

“Yes? I don’t think I understa-”

And just like that, the once peaceful room erupted into a flurry of movement and pure chaos. The canvas was rushed to sit by the window, unfinished and disregarded while its creator sprinted past the poor servant in a mess of drying paints and furious swears. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” came the echoing shriek, quickly tumbling through the stone walls. “Maybe, you know, _before they showed up to my house?!”_

The servant was forced to tear after her mistress, chasing after the old nightgown covered with faded paint down the halls. “My Lady, they said you invited them to come today! I only assumed that you were already aware of their arrival!” 

“Who the hell said that?!” Andrea barked, turning her head long enough to shoot a fiery glare at the servant, who to her credit, barely cowered under the familiar burst of anger.

“The young Beilschmidts, my Lady!”

Andrea abruptly stopped in the hall, the servant narrowly avoiding a collision by stumbling off to the side. In the blink of an eye, all of the previous panic seemed to disappear as the burning rage of her scowl was replaced with an easy grin. 

“Ah, that’s right,” she laughed, turning back around to go down the hall once more. “Those girls are coming today. Why didn’t you start off with that?” 

Before the servant could answer, Andrea was already gone, taking off at a much more relaxed pace than before to go and greet her guests. As such, she didn’t hear the exhausted sigh the poor woman gave before she went off to continue with her duties for the versatile lady of the house. 

Andrea couldn’t believe how stressed she had gotten over those two girls, brushing the still-wet paint on her palms over her skirt to wipe it off absentmindedly as she walked. They came by enough to be her own family at this point, and Lord knows they’ve seen her in worse times by sheer accident. 

Before she even arrived, Andrea could already hear the brassy voice of the eldest Beilschimdt. 

“But why did we have to get up _now_?” 

Andrea could barely hide her amused smile when she heard a resounding smack and a sudden squawk of pain. 

“Maybe if you actually got up when you were supposed to instead of sleeping in everyday, waking up wouldn’t be so hard for you.”

And there was the deeper growl of the younger, stern as her mother and just as strong, if not stronger. 

“Oh, give her a break Monika,” Andrea laughed as she entered the open door to the parlor that harbored their hushed conversation. “I’m sure poor Julchen has been through enough in these past two hours to last her a lifetime.” 

As soon as she set foot into the room, Andrea saw the Beilschmidt daughters together in all of their chaotic glory. 

Julchen immediately bounced to her feet to run forward and greet her, dressed in a loose black shirt with silver embroidery wrapping around the arms and chest to mark her status as part of the Beilschmidt line. Both girls tended to avoid skirts in favor of trousers that would let them move with much more ease, but Julchen in particular was always fond of the finer dress pants that she always ruined. A strong leather belt held the sheath to her sword on her hip, marked with the same style of curving lines as on her shirt. Her long silver hair was let loose, still tangled and matted from her sleep as her wild scarlet eyes locked onto Andrea with a mischievous grin. 

“Andrea! You gotta help me, Moni-” 

She was abruptly yanked back by her collar with a single harsh tug from Monika, the younger already scowling at her sister as she restrained her as best she could. 

Monika was dressed similarly, as was expected of their family, but there were still some noticeable differences between her and Julchen. Monika preferred cleaner styles, not the loose and messy fashion of her sister, which was very apparent in her clothes. A well-tailored matching shirt with silver embroidery was worn with pride, although the more durable canvas pants and heavy black boots showed how much she expected to work throughout her day. Her sword also rested against her hip, although the sheath was in much better condition compared to Julchen’s. Her shorter blonde hair was kept clean-cut in contrast to Julchen’s bird nest on her head, cold blue eyes narrowing as they stared down her sister. 

She bowed her head respectfully to Andrea, one hand on the back of Julchen’s skull forcing her to do the same. “Please forgive my sister, Lady Carriedo. I know it’s an early hour for you and I apologize for any disturbances we may have caused.” 

“Forgive _me_? _You’re_ the one waking up the whole damn city with your yelling!” Julchen shot back, hissing when Monika merely forced her head further down with a tight smile that didn’t meet her eyes. 

Andrea could only give a very un-ladylike snort at Monika’s desperate attempts to keep Julchen under control, her hands resting on her hips with a broad grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “Brunhilde is really trying to get you to keep that girl on a tight leash, huh?” 

Monika sighed heavily and reluctantly let go of Julchen, who barreled up to Andrea with none of her eagerness lost, throwing one arm around her shoulders while the other came up to point at her sister. 

“You have no idea! She’s been trying to get me to study with her, but she’s done this thing where she trains _as_ she studies and now she just beats me up and recites the history of Verona while I’m on the ground! Can’t you see the little dictator _Mutti_ is raising? This whole city is gonna fall apart as soon as I die!” 

Andrea nodded along, grinning at Monika, who resigned herself to standing awkwardly behind Julchen as her older sister complained endlessly about her supposed tyranny. “What a dark future ahead, isn’t that right Monika?” she teased, delighting in the way her face quickly turned bright red. “Now get over here.” 

Andrea managed to free one arm from Julchen’s grip, waving it out to Monika. The poor girl looked like she was about to combust on the spot, refusing to meet the eyes of her sister or Andrea in favor of studying her shined boots. However, Andrea persisted, holding her arm out with a determined glint in her dark emerald eyes. 

With some mumbled protests and lots of timid shuffling, Monika eventually came over to hug Andrea as well, being tugged into the arms of the gleeful Portuguese woman and ended up smushed next to Julchen. 

“What a lovely family reunion,” she commented dryly, not blind at all to the way Julchen pinched Monika’s side or the way Monika brought her heel down on Julchen’s shin to shut her up. 

Eventually, though, she released the Beilschmidts and smoothed her own old nightgown out. “Come, sit down now. I think you two deserve that much after this mess of a morning.” 

Chairs were pulled out from a small table set with various pastries and sweets, all lined out for the two to take, most likely set up while Andrea was in her mad rush to get properly dressed. She knew for a fact that Monika would have ushered them both along without a bite to eat, and she always made sure to take care of the two as she did her own sister. Long ago, when they were much younger, Monika would have been too shy to accept anything Andrea tried to offer while Julchen sneaked treats off the table and into her sleeves for them to share later. 

It still brought a smile to Andrea’s face to see them freely take their preferred meals, occasionally bickering over who had the right to what before they settled down. 

“Ah, my apologies, Lady Carriedo,” Monika said, suddenly snapping her head up from her plate with wide eyes. “Why did you want us to come today?” 

Andrea waved her hand, leaning back in her seat casually as she spoke. “Go ahead and eat. I’m sure you two have mastered the art of listening while you eat at this point.” 

Julchen nodded vehemently, a muffled sound of approval coming from her as she shoved a pastry into her mouth. Monika stared at her sister with what could only be utter disappointment for a few moments before she turned her attention to Andrea and picked at her food. 

With both Beilschmidts attentive, Andrea finally began. 

“Now, I know you two are close with Bella, but I have to say, she’s been acting off for the past few days,” Andrea sighed. “The _idiota_ has been running off to God-knows-where all day and coming back in the middle of the night. She’s always been easily excitable, but Bella just doesn’t seem to have that kind of energy anymore.” 

She turned her head to glance over the two sisters, who had both slowed down to take in the new information. “Have either of you talked to her recently? Hell, have either of you _seen_ her at all?” 

Julchen’s platinum hair whipped around in a furious shake of the head as she swallowed down her bite. “Last time I saw her was a few weeks ago, when we went out to stea-” A swift thud from under the table preceded Julchen’s sudden jolt in her seat. “I mean- _talk_ \- with that Edelstein girl in the square.” 

Lord, Andrea wished she could live forever if only to be able to see the antics these girls got themselves into. 

Monika cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her in her hopeless attempt at glossing over Julchen’s slip. “That was the last I saw of her as well. Has she not been back for her meals?” 

Andrea sighed and dropped her head to rest in the palm of her hand. “No. I don’t know if she’s been eating at all.” 

Silence fell over the table for a few moments before Andrea glanced over at the sisters again. 

“I’m worried about her, even if she insists that she can take care of herself,” she confessed. “The stupid girl always manages to get herself into some kind of trouble.” 

Monika and Julchen exchanged a brief glance over their plates before Monika spoke. 

“Would you like for us to search for her today?” she offered plainly. “We might not be able to force her back, but we could at least see if she’s doing alright.”

“Yes,” came the simple response, “and try to make sure she doesn’t end up stabbed by Edelstein before you get to her.” 

“Now that’s the real challenge,” Julchen snickered, Monika rolling her eyes, but saying nothing to dispute her. 

Andrea huffed out a laugh at that, followed closely behind by Julchen’s booming cackles and Monika’s hushed snickers as the three enjoyed their slice of peace in the delicate hours of the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this scene was only a few lines long in the play and look at it now


	3. In Verona's Square

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> The Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter

“Let’s go through the city, you said,” Julchen huffed, leaning against one of the sturdy stone walls of the homes around her, “It can’t take that long, you said.” 

“Well excuse me for wanting to be thorough,” Monika shot back, her face barely flushed as she crossed her arms. “Isabella isn’t exactly the most habitual of people.”

“Habitual enough not to hole herself up in some Godforsaken hole in the corner of town!” 

Fortunately for any passing citizens, the roar of the morning commotion drowned out the argument between the Beilschmidts. The sun called out the beginning of the day, spurring on a mad rush for merchants to set up their shops while the townspeople scurried around to get the best deals possible. People flooded the streets, jamming and shoving one another in their hurry to get to their destination in a mad rush that easily led to rising tempers. 

Although Monika hated to admit it, Julchen did have a point. She didn’t particularly enjoy having to use her authority to part the crowd, and it was starting to look unlikely at this point that Isabella would be in the main part of the city at all. 

Monika groaned and rubbed her temples with a gloved hand, willing the oncoming migraine to at least give her a few moments to sort herself out. “Well, what do you suggest we do then?” 

“I mean, now that we’re here, thanks to your master plan,” Monika was swift to plant her elbow between Julchen’s ribs at that remark, “We might as well try and pick up something to eat for Isa before we find her.” 

Monika eyed the growing amount of people with some hesitance, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of her sword. “Do you really want to try that now?” 

Julchen scoffed and rolled her ruby eyes, tossing herself into the crowd without a second thought. “No, but since we’re here, we might as well!” 

Monika swore with none of the grace of her status, tearing after her sister with a steel gaze that parted the sea of people as easily as a sword could have.

" _Julchen!_ ”

Julchen’s cackling laugh easily betrayed her location, dashing past various stands that offered fresh pastries and fruit with a quick glance. She didn’t exactly know what she was looking for, but she could tell that what she was seeing wasn’t it. Really, Isabella probably would have been fine with anything Julchen bought her, but it was just too much fun to string Monika along like a guard dog on the hunt. 

She didn’t know how long she raced through Verona, or even where she was for that matter, but none of that mattered when she caught the sight of the ends of a scarlet cape whipping around the corner. 

A grin blossomed on her face as she changed direction and bolted after the cape, filled with a new burst of energy designed solely to irritate. Isabella could always eat later, she reasoned, especially if it was for a chance like this. 

Julchen strained her ears to catch the conversation ahead of her, a glint in her eyes when she realized who her target was with. 

“I never understand why you insist on buying such expensive clothes for those two when they always end up ruining them.” 

A bold laugh came from her target’s partner, cheerful even in the harsh conditions of the morning. “They’re only the daughters of the richest family around, you know. It really wouldn’t hurt to spend a little more on them.” 

“You say that as if they deserve them.” 

“Because they do!” 

The two continued their mundane conversation, completely unsuspecting of the sheer magnitude of chaos barreling up behind them until it was too late. 

“Well look what the cat dragged in! Looking good, if I do say so myself, Annie!” Julchen crowed, forcing herself between the two with an arm around each of their shoulders. 

Almost immediately, her left arm was slammed back down into her side, a scornful violet glare accompanying the harsh motion. 

“That will be Miss Edelstein to you, Beilschmidt.” 

Standing next to Julchen and nearly seething with unspoken rage was none other than the appointed guardian of the Vargas family, Anneliese Edelstein. 

The woman was decked in a silky white shirt, accented with scarlet and gold along her shoulders to match the cape that flowed down behind her. Black trousers with too much of a flare to be considered practical and tailored to fit her narrow hips completed the look of the frivolous guardian, whose gloved hand now seemed to permanently reside by her sword. 

“Please Anna, Julchen is a brat, but there’s no need to start a fight about it _now_.” 

On Julchen’s other side was the nursemaid of the Vargas twins, Elizabeta Héderváry, who was looking decidedly unhappy about the way her day was turning out. 

She was wearing a full dress, scarlet and gold like the uptight protector next to her, flowy enough to allow her to keep her full range of motion. Save for the simple fabric colors, no other designs or accessories joined her, keeping practicality first and foremost as always. In her arms was a stack of neatly folded dresses and fabrics, overflowing with various patterns that clashed together when they were all present at once. 

“That’s no way to treat your future Queen now, Miss Héderváry,” Julchen scolded, her wicked grin refusing to die down. “Don’t you know I have the best interests of my citizens at heart?” 

“I doubt you have the best interests of anything save for yourself at heart,” Anneliese huffed, “if you even have one.” 

“What slander!” Julchen gasped, absolutely delighting in the hissed “ _Anna_!” that came from Elizabeta. “Man, if it was up to me, I would have you executed for talk like that.” 

“There is no need for any sort of talk between you two,” Elizabeta interrupted, glaring at both Julchen and Anneliese before shrugging off Julchen’s arm. “Especially since neither of you can be civil for more than five minutes without having to fight it out.” 

“Yes, we must be on our way,” Anneliese added, brushing past Julchen to make her way back to the other side of Elizabeta. “We are on quite a tight schedule today, if that concept is at all familiar to you.” 

“Well if time’s what you’re worried about, then how about a little help to speed things up?” 

Elizabeta shrieked when the pile of dresses in her arms was suddenly swiped, now resting in Julchen’s loose hold as she jumped in front of them to stop them from moving any further. “Julchen, I’ll rip your throat out myself if you drop those!” 

“Really feeling the appreciation here guys,” Julchen drawled, leaning backward to saunter onto the street. “The need to fulfill my civil duty to my loyal citizens is just _bursting_ today.” 

“Beilschmidt, return those to Miss Héderváry right now!” Anneliese snapped, her fingers now wrapped tightly around the handle of her sword. 

“What, and risk ruining all these pretty dresses if I trip?” Julchen responded, eyes wide with faux innocence. “Besides, I’m perfectly capable of lifting a few skirts if I have to,” she hummed, winking at a slack-jawed Elizabeta. 

In a flash, Anneliese’s sword was drawn and pointed at Julchen, face flushed and scowling with some kind of rage. Her posture was impeccable as usual, but the slight shake of her hand as she held the blade up said more about what she thought about Julchen than anything else. 

“Do not bring that filthy excuse for humor here.” Anneliese’s sword focused itself just on Julchen’s chest. “Return the dresses and get out before I decide to stop being so tolerant of you today!” 

“Lighten up Annie!” The dresses were tossed unceremoniously back to Elizabeta. “People might think you want to kill me or something.” 

Violet eyes flashed dangerously and Anneliese’s long raven hair swept behind her as she took a step forward, only to be met with the clash of metal. 

The crowd around them was silent, people murmuring worriedly and clearing a space for the two the moment Julchen drew her sword. The two were quiet as well, sizing up the other with a careful stare. 

Anneliese was staring Julchen down, her reputation as a stoic swordfighter slipping from her grasp as her blade began to shake, narrowed violet eyes swirling with a rising wall of sheer emotion. Julchen however, remained unmoved, ruby eyes glancing over her opponent before settling themselves back on Anneliese's face, any kind of weakness or unpredictability locked up until the battle began.

Anneliese was talented with a traditional sword fight, but Julchen had proved herself to follow absolutely anything _but_ tradition. It would be a fair match, if somewhat limited due to the number of people around them. Either of them could make the first strike. 

“ _J_ _ulchen!_ ” 

Until a third sword swung down between them and forced them to separate. 

Both Anneliese and Julchen jumped back, whipping their heads to face Monika. 

The younger Beilschmidt looked absolutely _livid_ , her face twisting with barely hidden rage as she raised her sword once more. With her broad stature and regal clothing, Monika certainly made the stuff of nightmares for anybody who saw her with the amount of poison currently boiling in her eyes. 

“What the hell are you two even doing?! Do you not understand what you could start if you pull a stunt like that in the middle of the street?” 

Julchen opened her mouth to answer, but found herself cut off by an equally furious response. 

“And what do you think you are doing?!” Anneliese snapped, her sword coming up to aim itself at Monika’s chest instead. “Have you come by to pick a fight as well? Two against one?”

Monika’s blade quickly came up to stop Anneliese’s own, narrowed arctic eyes tracking Anneliese’s every move. “I am trying to stop that fight from happening if you would just _listen_!” 

Anneliese scoffed, pressing forward until Monika was forced to fall back to match her. 

“And why would I listen to the dog who follows Carriedo?” 

“ _Shut up_!” 

Julchen’s blade swung for Anneliese’s arm and with that one motion, the street was thrown into utter destruction. 

Escape quickly became pointless as all were dragged into the fight, underlying tensions for those who supported the rival families exploding in the broad daylight. The street became a mess of swords and fallen bodies, faces losing shape in the mass of danger and targets alike. Julchen lost sight of Anneliese and Monika, but she still fought her way through the crowd, tearing down all who tried to stop her. Soon enough, the battle turned from a feud into a fight merely for the sake of fighting as identity was wiped away and all that mattered was how many people were on the other end of the sword. 

Julchen could feel the handle of her blade growing slick with blood and sweat, fumbling in her hand before she could get a sturdier grip. She could no longer feel her arms or anything else, no pain or fear but only the rush of adrenaline as she struck down the next fool who tried to cross swords with her. 

Vaguely, she heard the sound of something not quite a human yell, but didn’t pay much attention to it until it grew nearly deafening. Julchen spared a quick glance up before facing her partner again only to shoot up with a series of swears that would have made Anneliese cry. 

The horns of the royal line sounded along the street, separating the brawl down the middle to create a path wide enough to travel down. Gradually, the chaos of the scene receded until all stared up at the messengers who carried the horns. 

It is in the quiet of the street that Queen Brunhilde Beilschmidt arrived on the back of a well-kept horse, staring down at her citizens with a gaze cold enough to freeze Hell twice over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen,,,prussia's little sex joke about lifting skirts??? that's my magnum fuckin opus right there i will never be able to beat that


	4. Brunhilde's Study

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Prince Escalus - Brunhilde Beilschmidt (Fem! Germania)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> Mutti - Mom  
> Mutter - Mother  
> Danke - Thanks  
> Danke schön - Thank you so much

The Queen never raised a wrongful hand against her people. This was a fact that was common knowledge within Verona and all who lived within her lands. She dealt out justice accordingly, and those who were innocent would always come out safe should she become involved. 

That was why the entire crowd of people gathered in the street, who were all _remarkably_ guilty, suddenly found themselves facing their Judgement Day much earlier than they thought. 

Everybody waited in tense silence, fearful eyes glancing at the Queen before looking around to see who could be blamed instead. Queen Brunhilde returned none of their gazes, scanning the street once before looming over them with all the authority a Queen could possibly have. 

“I have said that to disturb the peace is a crime.” The temperature seemed to drop as she spoke, leaving chills on the arms of every citizen present. “It seems that my words have not been enough to stop this crime from happening.” 

An uproar rose within the people, fingers and swords desperately pointing out who was to blame for what as the clamor drowned out any further words the Queen had. 

“It’s not my fault-” 

“I got dragged into this mess-”

“It’s that one over there who started it-” 

“What are you lot looking at me for-”

Queen Brunhilde raised a single gloved hand and the bursting accusations silenced themselves. 

“I did not ask who started this fight.” Her eyes flashed with a hint of the annoyance that she carefully kept off of her stoic face. “But I will tell you what will happen to the next person who does.” 

Julchen prayed that her mother was currently staring down Anneliese, wherever the insufferable woman was. 

“Anyone from this point onwards who disturbs the peace again will be punished with death.” Julchen met her mother’s eyes. “Regardless of class or status.” 

Julchen prayed that she could revoke that first prayer to get another one for her own salvation. 

“Do not make me return for this reason again. Understood?” the Queen questioned, raising her voice to project for all to hear. Various mumbles and nods followed her statement, nobody daring to disperse until she had left. Finally, her eyes left Julchen to stare off somewhere to her left, where she could only assume Monika had ended up. 

“Julchen, Monika.” Her horse turned and began to set a pace back out of the city. “Come.” 

Finally, the people gathered slunk away, desperate to spread the news of the Queen’s new edict and to tend to their own wounds. Julchen tailed after her mother, and with a quick glance to her side, saw Monika walking briskly to keep pace with her, looking as pale as the moon. 

~~

In the castle of Beilschmidt, Monika and Julchen sat across from their mother in one of her larger studies, neither of them daring to so much as glance at each other. They kept their eyes firmly focused on their laps, despite the weight of Brunhilde’s gaze resting on their shoulders. To do otherwise would be a death sentence for them both. 

Nobody talked or moved, and Monika didn’t even dare to breathe until she heard her mother speak. 

“Julchen.” 

Both sisters snapped up to face their mother, flinching at the lack of emotion that greeted them. They knew better than to assume that the lack of emotion meant a lack of care. 

“What happened?” 

“It was my fault!” Monika blurted out, leaning forward in her chair. “I attacked Miss Edelstein first and she retaliated against me.” 

Brunhilde’s gaze turned from Julchen to Monika, who looked so firmly set in her words that Brunhilde almost believed her. Her youngest daughter held her gaze and never wavered, but she couldn't quite hide the way her hands trembled in her lap.

“I did not ask you, Monika.” 

Monika broke eye contact, staring at the smooth wooden desk in front of her instead. Brunhilde waited before turning to Julchen, who held her gaze with an equally impressive facade of calm compared to her sister. 

Julchen said nothing, studying the face of her mother for a moment before speaking quietly. “I bothered Annie and she drew a sword on me.” 

Brunhilde waited. 

“So I drew my own too, since she was getting closer.” 

And waited. 

“But Monika got between us and tried to break it up, it really wasn’t her fault.” 

And waited. 

“And Annie tried to go after Monika too and called her a dog, so I hit her.” 

There it was. 

“Julchen.” Her eldest daughter flinched and dropped her eyes once again. “Did you attack Anneliese for Monika?” 

Julchen nodded and Monika’s head whipped up, jaw dropping with an unmistakably wide-eyed expression of shock. However, Monika quickly controlled herself, training her face back to something resembling neutral to let her mother speak. 

“Monika is old enough to know when to fight her own battles. You know this,” Brunhilde said calmly. “Why do you insist on fighting them yourself?” 

“But Annie insulted Isa and Andrea too!” Julchen protested, throwing her arms up. “Andrea’s just worried and Isa’s gone missing and we were supposed to look for her, but Annie always talks about them like they're _peasants!_ And then she went and got after Monika too and Monika never _does_ anything, she just stands there and _takes_ it, so I _had_ to do something _Mutti_!” 

Julchen could feel her face heating up at the thought of Annie’s face when she turned to look at Monika, filled with disgust that should never be aimed at her little sister or her friends. However, with no reaction from her mother, Julchen had no choice but to lower her arms and stay down, glowering at the thought of Annie in her own mind. 

Brunhilde looked between the two sisters once more and steepled her fingers together. “And why were you in the city?” 

“Lady Carriedo asked us to look for Isabella. I thought she would be somewhere in the market,” Monika replied quietly, relieving Julchen of having to come up with another answer.

Brunhilde glanced over at Monika before focusing her gaze back on Julchen. “You were looking for your friend?” 

Julchen nodded again. 

A pause, and then Brunhilde finally let out a weary sigh. “If it weren’t for these times, I would reward you for standing up for Monika, even if she doesn’t need it. But things are dangerous now. And starting a fight for whatever reason could get you both killed.” 

Brunhilde stopped to glance behind her, where the open window shone with the last rays of the sunset. Warm oranges and bright magentas swept across the sky, the sun bursting into color before fading away for the night. 

It was the kind of sight that Octavia or Andrea would have been ecstatic to see, although it held little sentiment for Brunhilde. Her mind wandered to Octavia’s twins and Andrea’s younger sister, all of which held the same love for beauty as their heads of family did and undoubtedly would have been equally entranced by the sunset. 

Brunhilde wondered if her own children held that same love as well. 

“Go.” 

Julchen’s head tilted, sending streaks of pale hair across her face as it scrunched in confusion. “Huh?” 

“Go look for Isabella.” 

Brunhilde didn’t miss the way Monika and Julchen shared a relieved smile before they stood up in a flash, already out the door as they spoke. 

_“Danke, Mutti!”_

_“Danke schön, Mutter!”_

Brunhilde sighed and waved them out, where Julchen’s loud plans for how to find Isabella and Monika’s quieter disagreements followed them back outside the castle. She turned her eyes back to the falling sunset and rested her head in the palm of her hand. 

She really was getting soft with her age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is only now as i write the actual chapters out do i realize how slow this is going to be and i am so sorry in advance


	5. A Hidden Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> Lo siento - I'm sorry  
> Mutti - Mom

In a field filled with blooming flowers, all radiating beauty as their various hues shone in the sunset, Isabella laid her head down and allowed the blossoms to blanket over her. Above her, she could see the clouds pinkening and eventually fading into black as they passed by, the grass rustling as the last gusts of wind blew around her to accompany the sight. The sun rested on the horizon, stretching its light out to the endless fields in front of her all laced with vibrant petals that filled the land with an infinite amount of color. 

The city lay far away, the bustling townspeople left to their own confines as Isabella rested outside of Verona’s streets. Here, she could rest in the hands of nature and let the world pass her by without a care. 

Here, Isabella found peace. 

Her gloved hands brushed the few chocolate locks that escaped her bun, falling in her face no matter where she tried to tuck them. Eventually, she gave up and let her hand fall back to her side, huffing as the strands fell in her face in a bold rebellion. Emerald eyes closed and Isabella forgot about things like her uncooperative hair for a brief moment. 

However, they opened again when she heard hushed voices approaching her. 

Isabella’s hand flew to the sword on her side, thankful for the fact that she chose not to wear a skirt as she tensed. Laying amongst the flowers, Isabella paused and waited, ready to strike. 

“Another excellent plan, m’lady.” 

“Julchen, I am going to strangle you if you say another word.” 

Isabella’s nerves lost their tension as she sat up, the hand on her sword now waving in the air cheerfully as she spotted her two friends in the distance. “Hey, Jules! Monika!” 

The sisters both turned at the mention of their names, their faint figures in the distance quickly closing in until Isabella could make out the broad grin on Julchen’s face and the relieved look on Monika’s. 

“Isa!” 

Isabella soon found herself toppled over by Julchen, the two falling back onto the grass in a tangled heap of stray limbs and unrestrained giggles. Monika stood over the two, shaking her head once before taking a seat next to the clump of laughter by her side. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Julchen rattled off, untangling herself in order to splay out on the ground on Isabella’s other side. “We’ve been looking for you for like, weeks!” 

At that question, Isabella’s good mood faded away, the hefty smile on her face slipping into a troubled frown. “Ah, _lo siento_. I didn’t mean to worry you two.” 

“You didn’t answer the question.” 

Both Julchen and Isabella stared blankly at Monika, who quickly realized her mistake and flushed with color. “Sorry, that was pretty blunt,” she admitted, “but really, where were you?” 

Isabella waved her arm around lazily, the other coming behind her head to act as a pillow. “Right here! It’s just so beautiful out of town, especially when everything's blooming like this. I couldn’t resist!” 

Monika hummed in agreement and turned to gaze at the sunset with Isabella. “It is rather nice out.” 

“It is. You picked out a great spot, Isa.” Julchen nudged the fabric of Isabella’s flowy blue and white shirt in an attempt to get at her ribs. “You still haven’t said why you’ve been out here though.” 

“Man, I can’t get anything past you two, huh?” 

The trio laughed, the sound carried far and wide by the wind until they quietly died down. Julchen and Monika still waited for an answer, patiently waiting as Isabella gathered up her thoughts. 

“I guess I've just been feeling a little lonely,” Isabella admitted, gaze still locked on the vast sky above her. “Like I’m always going to end up by myself no matter what.” 

“What makes you say that?” Monika shifted to lay down as well, although she was much more rigid compared to the relaxed states of both Isabella and Julchen. 

Isabella huffed out a sigh, glancing between the two sisters to find them both watching her intently. “I mean, look at where we’re living.” 

“Andrea always talks about love and how beautiful it is, and really I think it’s wonderful too, but I never see love in Verona. It’s just that grudge between everybody that connects us all.” The hopeless tone slowly began to take on another form, desperation filling up the crevices in her words as Isabella sent them out. 

“And I want to love! I do! I want to feel weightless and happy with someone and live together and have a life with them! I want to be a little stupid in front of someone and have them fall in love with me! I want to trust someone with my life more than I trust myself! I want to have someone that I can take care of and be able to run to them no matter when! I want it!” A smile erupted on her face, her body smothered in warmth at the thought of all of her idle fantasies coming true. 

Although, slowly, that smile began to fade. 

“I don’t think anyone can love here though.” 

Isabella didn’t have to say anything more, her point looming over the three as they lay in silence. The tension stretched far too thin for Isabella’s taste and she was ready to apologize for such silly thoughts with a quick smile when she felt a head rest on her arm. 

“That’s not true.” 

Julchen studied her with those intense ruby eyes, never betraying exactly how much ran through her head. 

“Because you have Andrea like we have _Mutti_ , right?” A nod. “Isn’t that love too?” 

“Yes, but-”

“And you have us.” 

Monika refused to look at Isabella as she spoke, but Isabella could still see the violent blush that stretched to her ears. 

“Yeah, and you have us! Don’t we love you too?” Julchen added eagerly. “Sure, it’s not the love you’re thinking of, or the one you want, but isn’t that love too?” 

“I-” 

But Isabella couldn’t think of anything to say to argue, because above all else, Julchen was _right_. 

Isabella saw love in the way Andrea sat with her, surrounded by her paintings above Verona as she carefully pointed out the details of the city with the eye of an artist no matter how many times she called Isabella an idiot for missing something. Isabella saw love in the way Brunhilde taught her daughters to protect each other, training them in sword fighting herself until they were old enough to defend each other from the world outside. 

And Isabella saw love in the way that Monika and Julchen, despite the fact that they looked a little worse for the wear, still searched for her and sat down in some field outside of the city to listen to her. 

“Oh, you guys!” 

Isabella couldn’t stop the swell of tears as she wrestled both Monika and Julchen into her arms, bawling into their hair as she held them close. 

“ _Lo siento, lo siento!_ I didn’t realize how close we all were! An-and you all love _me_ and I lo-love you both too!” 

Julchen only laughed and managed to free one arm enough to hug her back just as tightly despite the awkward angle. “Of course you do! Who _wouldn’t_ love me?” 

“Shut up Julchen,” Monika mumbled, closing her eyes as Isabella continued to keep her locked in place against her chest. 

“No, no, she’s right,” Isabella sniffed, finally releasing the two in order to wipe her face off with a gloved hand. “Except for maybe Anna.” 

Monika groaned while Julchen started to cackle. “Oh _man_ , are you gonna love what happened today then!” 

Isabella blinked, rubbing away the lingering sting in her eyes as she swiveled her head between the sisters. “Huh? What happened?” 

“A mess.” 

“A _glorious_ victory!” 

Julchen jumped to her feet, tugging up Monika as she rambled on. “You should have been there! I totally kicked Annie’s ass today! Actually, I’ll just re-enact it for you!” She pointed directly at her poor younger sister. “You! You’re Annie now!” 

“What? I’m not doing th- _Julchen get off of me!_ ” Monika shrieked when Julchen immediately tackled her back down to the ground. 

“You even got your lines right!” 

_“Julchen!”_

Isabella was soon howling with laughter, fresh tears of sheer joy streaming down her face as Julchen continued to act out her victory over “Annie,” who was swearing profusely and attempting to get Julchen into a stranglehold in a very un-Anneliese manner. At one point, Monika managed to knock Julchen over and stood up before her feet were yanked out under her, sending her tumbling face-first back down into the dirt, much to the shrieking delight of both Julchen and Isabella. 

The trio laughed together, free to act out their youths outside of the streets of Verona as the sunset blessed them all with a final burst of light, illuminating the world around them as they basked in the feeling of their own special kind of love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> platonic bonds are important!!! i will die on this hill!!! also scene 1 is finally over and boy it took 4 whole chapters to get through


	6. Chiara's Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Rosaline* - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)
> 
> Translations:  
> Stupida - Stupid  
> Mamma - Mom  
> Idiota - Idiot  
> Ragazze - Girls
> 
> *Rosaline doesn't play a major part in the original play outside of her role as Romeo's first Capulet love interest, but because of the family tree mixup to get all of these characters in here, Marzia is really only Rosaline in name and relation, not in her role in the plot. If anything, Marzia is her own character and won't be following Rosaline's original actions. Sorry for any confusion!

“Come on, Chiara,” Elizabeta cooed to the lump on the bed. “Today is a special day, you know.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Marzia has been waiting for you! To be honest, I don’t know if Anna is going to be able to hold her back any longer if you don’t get up now.” 

“Serves that uptight bastard right.” 

“Chiara, you know she has a hard job!” 

“And she’s the idiot who decided to take that job!” 

Elizabeta sighed, sitting down next to the pile of blankets and covers in order to gently coax the eldest Vargas sister up. “Today really is going to be special,” she hummed, one hand brushing over the mess of brunette hair resting on the pillows, “I saw the servants running around all day yesterday, and even this morning too! I bet something big is going to happen.” 

“Don’t touch me.” 

Ever so faintly down the halls, Elizabeta caught the sound of pounding footsteps, one pair much lighter and quicker than the other, and grinned. “Whatever you say,” she replied, as nonchalantly as she could as she attempted to get off the bed as quickly as possible. 

A pair of honey-colored eyes emerged from the depths of the blankets, squinting suspiciously at Elizabeta. “What the hell are yo-” 

“ _Chiara!_ ” 

The door exploded with the amount of force Marzia used to barrel in, speeding directly for her sister and landing straight onto her stomach. 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Chiara spat out, finally freeing herself from the blankets as the wind was promptly knocked out of her. “Marzia, I’m going to _kill you!_ ” 

However, Chiara’s attempts at threatening her twin off failed spectacularly since Marzia was paying little attention to anything Chiara was saying in favor of rambling herself. 

“Chiara! Anna told me that you weren’t getting up and that I had to wait for you, but then I just got so worried because she wouldn’t tell me anything else, like if you were hurt or if you couldn’t get up, so I went to look for Eliza but then she was gone too, so I didn’t know what else to do and I left Anna behind to come and get you and I’m so happy that you’re safe!” 

Chiara didn’t think that Marzia had even breathed throughout that whole speech, but she somehow managed to finish her tangent off in an impressive amount of tears that streamed down her face and soaked the blankets. Regardless, she didn’t care.

“Get the hell off of me, _stupida_!” Chiara promptly shoved Marzia off the bed and onto the floor, groaning as the aftershock of Marzia’s landing finally wore off. “How are you this dumb?” 

“But, Chiara!” came the high-pitched whine from the floor, thankfully out of Chiara’s sight. 

Now that she could breathe properly again, Chiara managed to hone in on Elizabeta practically howling with laughter in the corner of the room, clutching onto the edge of her vanity in order to stay upright. 

“And you shut the hell up too!” 

“Marzia! I told you not to run off without me!” Anneliese entered the room red-faced and out of breath, panting as she leaned against the door to recover. “Did you really think we would let Chiara die in the span of a night?” 

“I’m sorry Anna! I promise I won’t do it again!” 

“That’s what you said yesterday too!” 

Elizabeta had collapsed to the floor at this point, choking on her own breaths as Chiara’s face quickly flushed with a horrifying mixture of shame and rage. 

“Just shut up! All of you!” Chiara screeched, burying her face back in her pillows. She was thankful for the fact that the fabric covered up her burning face, especially when the room silenced and left all of that miserable attention on _her_. 

Almost immediately, she felt a heavy weight on her back with a stupidly familiar piece of hair poking against her neck. “I’m sorry Chiara,” Marzia whined, “I really didn’t mean to make you upset! I was just worried!” 

A gentle hand started to brush the messy coffee-covered locks out of her face. “Yes, yes, that was a lot of excitement for one morning. Are you doing alright?” Elizabeta soothed, the last of her giggles escaping her as she tried to calm Chiara down. 

Chiara felt no other touch on her, but she did feel the bed dip slightly opposite of Elizabeta. “Marzia is a handful for us all, I’m sure you know, but she can’t act any worse than she is now.” 

She heard a pitiful whine and a distressed “ _Anna!_ ”, forcing a small chuckle out of her. Unfortunately, Marzia caught the noise and devolved into a mess of happy squeals and joyful chattering, starting the whole cycle over again when Chiara shoved her off of her back. 

~~

Once the energy of the morning died down, the four settled into their common routine on Chiara’s bed, much to her displeasure. 

The vanities in both of their rooms were ignored in favor of having them all pile onto one bed, Elizabeta sitting behind the two and slowly brushing their hair out in order to style it while Anneliese perched herself a safe distance away to sit on the corner, keeping a careful gaze over both the door and the open balcony. Chattering happily in the middle of it all was Marzia, talking away about some mundane topic while Chiara sat quietly and nearly fell asleep at the feeling of having something run through her hair. 

“You know, I wonder if I could ever find love too! Like the kind that _Mamma_ always talks about!” Chiara huffed, kicking Marzia before she could start up the never-ending conversation about love that their _Mamma_ absolutely adored bringing up. 

Elizabeta only laughed, running her fingers through Marzia’s hair with a pleased smile when the strands remained untangled before turning her attention to Chiara. “I’m sure you could find love wherever you want, Marzia."

“But how?” she whined, bouncing slightly in place. “She always talks about how great love is, but she never talks about how it _starts_!” 

“Well, love always starts with care!” The brush ran through Chiara’s hair and stopped, Elizabeta’s fingers taking over the job to untangle the knotted clump of hair. 

“You just want to get to know that person because they might seem interesting and then you find out that you want to be around them!” The brush returned to work. 

“Until eventually, you start to care about them because they’ve become so dear to you that hurting them would hurt you too.” Elizabeta ran her fingers through Chiara’s hair with a satisfied nod and set the brush down.

“And from there, you just have that desire to get closer and closer with someone until you get to know each other so well that you two become the tightest-knit pair in the world!” 

The nursemaid glanced up at Anneliese, who was staring at the door with a slight frown on her face. “Anna, do you have someone you love?” 

Elizabeta would swear up and down to this day that she had never seen Anna jump so quickly in her life. 

“Absolutely not,” came the curt reply. “I have a job to do.” 

“That doesn’t sound very sure to me,” Elizabeta hummed.

Chiara took great satisfaction in laughing at the way Anneliese’s face seemed to light up with a slight hint of pink. 

“And what about you, Marzia?” 

Chiara waited for the infinite reply about how she either found her love and that she was so happy or that she didn’t have anybody but she was still hopeful for the day she would. She didn’t expect complete silence from her sister. 

Chiara risked a glance over, jaw dropping when she saw Marzia’s face light up violently red without a single word. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Elizabeta, however, squealed and hugged the girl close, rocking back and forth excitedly until they were nearly tumbling into Chiara. “Oh you lucky girl! Look at you growing up so quickly!” 

She stopped only to place her hands on Marzia’s shoulders and peer over her shoulder. “Well? Who is it?” 

Despite the unwavering support Elizabeta showed, Marzia only shook her head, light bronze hair flying across her face. 

Chiara was quick to smack her sister on the shoulder, earning a shrill shriek. “Come on, _idiota_ , you can’t just drop that on us and not answer a damn thing!” 

No matter how much the two tried to pry the information out, Marzia held strong for at least two minutes on her own before she completely caved in. 

“If I tell you, do you promise not to tell _Mamma_?” she murmured, face still brilliantly red despite her quiet words. 

“Of course, Marzia!” 

“What, do you think I’m a snitch?” 

The three waited for the final response from Anneliese, only to be received by a harsh stare. 

“If this _infatuation_ endangers you, then I will be forced to warn your mother,” Anneliese warned, eyes narrowing as she studied Marzia. 

“Oh, Anna!” Elizabeta moaned. “What is so dangerous about a little infatuation? I doubt Marzia is going to end up marrying the assassin of the Queen.” 

“What is-” Anneliese sputtered, hands coming up to gesture wildly as she tried to explain herself. “Everything about it is dangerous! It is affection like that that makes people do foolish things! Marzia included!” 

“Then get out!” Chiara snapped, pointing directly at the door before changing her mind and pointing towards the balcony instead. “How much is a snitch going to protect us if we can’t even trust you with Marzia’s stupid little crush?” 

Anneliese went quiet, following Chiara’s finger before she sighed and settled back down. 

“Fine.” 

“I knew you would come around!” Elizabeta’s attention then turned to the younger twin still sporting a heavy blush. “Now, who’s the lucky person?” 

Marzia glanced back and forth between all three of them, seemingly vibrating in place as the words rested just on the tip of her tongue, honey eyes flicking around the room before they finally burst out. 

“ _It’s Monika!_ ” 

The reaction was instantaneous. 

Anneliese’s face twisted into a scowl while Chiara immediately smacked her sister on her thigh as hard as humanly possible. “You were raised with taste, _idiota_! How the hell did you look at that thing and think it was attractive?”

“I must agree with Chiara here,” Anneliese huffed, looking thoroughly disappointed in Marzia’s choice. “You could at least pick someone who doesn’t hang around the Carriedo’s as much as that girl does.” 

Elizabeta, on the other hand, was _ecstatic._

“I knew it! I knew it!” Her arms wrapped back around Marzia to rock them back and forth again. “Ah, she’s such a nice girl too! You’d never expect someone as strong as her to be so timid sometimes!” 

“I know, right?!” Marzia gasped, hands fluttering about wildly from her face to the air. “And she always acts so mean to her sister, but whenever I meet her in the town, she always gets so bashful! She even offered to carry my things once, and I wondered how much she could carry, so I asked if she could carry me, and she turned so red!” 

Marzia and Elizabeta both went on and on about how Monika was such a good fit for her while Anneliese and Chiara shared a look of utter despair from across the bed. 

However, a light knock on the door quickly silenced their conversation. 

“ _Ragazze_? Are you still in here?” 

Chiara slapped a hand over Marzia’s mouth while Anneliese nearly fell out of the bed to get the door, Elizabeta desperately fumbling for the hairbrush before she continued to work on Chiara’s hair. 

Anneliese opened the door after a quick glance behind her to make sure Marzia’s secret wouldn’t be spilled, allowing Octavia to enter the room. 

“Good morning, Lady Vargas,” Anneliese started, chorused by Elizabeta as Chiara quickly dropped her hand back to the bed. 

Octavia only waved her hand, an easy smile on her face. “Come on now, you’re just making me feel old.” 

Marzia waved excitedly, jittering in place again from either nerves or sheer happiness. “Hi _Mamma_! Here, sit down with us!” 

She patted the space in front of her rapidly, earning a laugh from their mother as she obeyed Marzia. “Special treatment for me now, hmm? Is there something I should know about?” 

Chiara had never felt her heart drop so fast, and judging by the terrified look on Elizabeta and Anneliese’s faces, they were feeling the exact same thing. 

But somehow, by some miracle of God, Marzia _completely_ forgot everything related to Monika as she told their mother about their morning. Chiara had no idea if that was intentional or divine intervention, but she would put her money on the church before her sister. 

Thankfully, Octavia was just as scatter-brained as her daughter, following along with Marzia’s train of thought easily and turning the conversation around herself until the two were on a completely different topic. 

It was only when Anneliese cleared her throat and gave a pointed look towards Octavia, did the woman finally get back on track. Warm brown eyes lit up with excitement, reaching out to grab her eldest daughter and hold her tight. 

“Ah, I have a little surprise for you Chiara! I’m sure you’ll love it!” 

She turned to face Elizabeta, who quietly worked on the rest of Chiara’s hair as Marzia spoke. “Make sure this one,” A light nudge was given to Chiara. “Dresses as nice as possible today! We got a special guest who wants to see her for breakfast!” 

“Of course, my Lady!” Elizabeta responded, tying a red ribbon around Chiara’s head to keep the wavy locks out of her face. 

Chiara, however, only stared at her mother with barely hidden confusion. “What, like a date?” 

Octavia laughed, the sound bounding throughout the room, as she reached over to pat Chiara’s head. “Something like that! Look at you! You already got the spirit!”

Anneliese cleared her throat again, bringing the attention of the lady of the house back to her. “If we are going to be able to prepare Chiara before breakfast, then I’m afraid we’ll need to start right away.”

“Of course, of course!” Octavia stood up from her seat on the bed and clapped her hands together. “Don’t let an old woman like me get in the way of young love!” 

Octavia ambled her way out, pace carefree as she turned around with one last wave and a “Play nice, _ragazze!_ ” before she left Chiara’s room. 

Anneliese closed the door behind her with a weary sigh as Elizabeta grinned wildly, glee shining in her eyes. “Look at that! We might be able to get the both of you head over heels with someone in one day!” 

“Shut up,” Chiara huffed, although she had to admit, all of this talk about matches and infatuation made gave her just the slightest spark of hope deep within her chest.

After all, why should her sister be the only one who gets to fall in love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chiara has finally arrived, but can i write concisely enough to get her to meet isabella without dragging it on forever? no.


	7. The Vargas Estate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)  
> Prince Escalus - Brunhilde Beilschmidt (Fem! Germania)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)
> 
> Translations:  
> Mamma - Mom

Chiara was assured at least five times over by Elizabeta and Anneliese that she looked fine, but as she climbed down the stairs to meet her mother, she found herself doubting their opinions once again. 

The dress Elizabeta had chosen for her was scarlet and gold, as usual with anybody in the Vargas house, but it just felt a little too tight around her chest for her comfort. On top of that, her corset was tied up with absolutely no room to breathe, leaving her light-headed and slightly dizzy no matter how much she tried to tug on it. 

Chiara was never one to doubt Elizabeta's prowess in preparing both her and her sister for the day, but it seemed like today was a change because so far, she was hating it. 

As she descended, she could hear the booming voice of her mother chatting with whoever their guest was, loud with mirth and cheer as she always was. Just the casual way her mother spoke made Chiara figure that it was just some house call with whatever patron Octavia sponsored on the street. There would probably be a few grateful words, whoever it was would turn to her and compliment her and her mother and it would be over. 

Which is why coming down to see her mother talking to the Queen and an unfamiliar guest nearly made her pass out on the spot. 

“Ah, there you are!” Octavia bounded over, resting one hand on Chiara’s shoulder to guide her towards the group. “Brunhilde, Sanem, this is my eldest daughter, Chiara.” 

The Queen dipped her head in acknowledgment, staring at Chiara with such a stoic face that she had no idea if she should be offended or not. Instead, she decided to turn her head to face her guest.

She had never seen such a person before, dressed in a loose purple silk shirt, although Chiara had to admit that it looked much more comfortable for the hotter weather compared to her own dress. All of this woman’s clothes seemed to drape over her, resting comfortably on top of the angles of her body rather than stitched to fit her form. 

Draped over a head of dark brown, nearly black, hair was a pale lavender scarf that framed her tanned face, allowing Chiara to make contact with a pair of narrowed lime green eyes and a confident smirk. 

Chiara hated her. 

“It is a pleasure to meet, you Miss Vargas.” The stranger grabbed her hand to lean over and press a kiss to the back of it. “I am Sanem Adnan.” 

“Charmed.” 

Chiara desperately wanted nothing more than to smack this girl across the face for even touching her in the first place, but she could already feel the “Chiara-please-don’t-ruin-this-for-me” look that her mother was sending her and held back. 

No matter how much it infuriated her to see that stupid smirk grow wider, like Sanem had just won some kind of prize to be coveted. 

“Ah, I’m glad to see you two getting along already!” Octavia sighed, strolling down the halls to the open entrance to the garden below. “Please, follow me! I’m sure you’re all pretty hungry, huh?” 

Chiara took it back. Watching her mother try to be formal with new guests brought her temper up to a new high. 

The Queen walked alongside Octavia, quietly listening as Octavia went on about something Chiara didn’t care much about. However, Chiara would have gone on pretending that some set of foreign paints her mother got ahold of was the most interesting thing in the world if she didn’t have to deal with Sanem alone. 

Because sure enough, as soon as the two women turned their backs, Sanem was back in front of her, holding a hand out expectantly. 

“Won’t you allow me to escort you, Miss Vargas?” The smirk was back in full force, Sanem’s voice dripping with a rather hideous attempt at being suave. “I would hate to let a woman as beautiful as yourself walk alone.”

Chiara merely took Sanem’s hand and shoved it none too gently back against her chest, relishing in the brief look of shock that wiped that smirk off of her face. “I can escort myself just fine.” 

She set off, tearing after her mother with some choice words in mind because this was absolutely not a case of _young love_ like that idiot Marzia had. Just the thought that Marzia yet again had something she lacked left a gnawing pit in her stomach, one that left her fuming and desperate for some kind of release. However, a strong tug around her waist forced her back with a shriek, right back into the arms of Sanem. 

Chiara felt the burning screech of rage building up deep in her chest, although even she knew that it was born from fear, no matter how she tried to deny it.

“You know, I’ve heard many things about your temper, Miss Vargas,” the woman continued, fingers rubbing circles around her hips so slowly it made Chiara feel sick, because God she just wanted Sanem to _stop touching her_. “And I’m aware of the fact that this anger may be misdirected at me right now.” 

Sanem leaned down to rest her head against Chiara’s shoulder, whispering her final words as the fingers slowed to a stop. 

“But if I were you, I would learn to bite my tongue very soon.” 

And with that, both her hands and her voice were gone, Sanem walking down the hall without a single glance back. 

Chiara waited with bated breath for Sanem to come back, to appear behind her again, to do _something_ , yet nothing happened. Nobody came. 

_Nobody came._

Chiara tugged at her corset, struggling to breathe against the weight of the fabric and those hands on her hips.

~~

“You must tell me how your cooks are trained,” Sanem commented with a wide smile. “This food is absolutely brilliant.”

“I know flattery when I see it, girl, but keep going!” Octavia nursed her third glass of wine, cheeks slightly flushed and her volume slipping occasionally into a booming echo before she could catch herself. 

Queen Brunhilde eyed Octavia's drink with some distaste, careful with her own glass of water. “I do not think morning is the best time to be drinking.” 

“Nonsense!” Octavia yelled, one broad hand waving around while the other held her glass close to her. “Wine’s good with everything! Right, Chiara?” 

Chiara nodded stiffly, refusing to make eye contact with Sanem sitting to her right in favor of turning her left to face her mother instead. 

The Queen scanned the table, taking in just about everything wrong with the atmosphere before she chose her next words carefully. “I believe it would be best to move onto business then, before we finish the wine.” 

“Yes! Business!” Octavia set her glass down with a little bit of difficulty and clapped her hands together. “So, Sanem, you seem to have a powerful state behind you.” 

“I do.” Acidic green eyes momentarily stopped to land on Chiara to give her a smile too wide to be real. “Our military is one of the best trained in the region. With this agreement, we would be more than happy to grant you our soldiers for your disposal.” 

“Look at that! Best in the region now. Remember when that used to be us? Hilda, I’m getting old!” Octavia laughed, reaching over to clap the Queen on the shoulder. 

Chiara couldn't believe her mother. Octavia always tried to lighten the mood wherever she went, but there was nothing she could do to lift the heavy weight that Chiara brought with her to the table. Brunhilde, on the other hand, seemed aware of this development and cleared her throat in order to move things along.

“We’ve gone over the contract already. I believe today, we just need the details settled,” Queen Brunhilde reminded her, pushing Octavia’s glass away from her traveling hands. 

“If I may add a request,” Sanem started, eyes locked directly onto Chiara as she spoke, “I would prefer to be married as soon as possible, as agreed upon.” 

Chiara felt her skin crawl for a reason she couldn’t pinpoint, discomfort looming over her shoulders and prickling across her arms in a sudden chill. There was something she was missing, something she wasn’t picking up that the other three seemed to know about and she felt a wave of apprehension rise up over her, waiting to crash down before she could escape it. 

Octavia, though, shook her head with a frown. “I can’t do that for you, Sanem.” 

Chiara’s head whipped to stare at her mother with a questioning look on her face, suspicion curling her brow. 

“Chiara is just too young to be married now! Give it two years, at least.” 

And Chiara’s world stopped for a second. 

It took a moment to realize what Sanem was asking for and another to understand what her mother had just said. One beat more and Chiara put together the pieces. 

And shattered.

“ _What?!_ ” 

She slammed her hands on the table, manners be damned, as her jaw dropped in horror. “What the hell do you mean I’m getting married?!” 

Octavia’s frown deepened, her chin propped up on a fist. “Chiara-” 

“ _Don’t you fucking ‘Chiara’ me!_ ” 

“Miss Vargas,” the Queen interrupted coldly, staring her down with a glare that would have terrified her if she had any kind of emotional control at the moment. “The union has already been decided upon and this matter is no longer up for debate. Please, calm yourself.” 

Calm? 

How could Chiara calm down? 

All she felt now was a burning rage that tore her apart from the inside out, because no matter where she looked now, she only saw betrayal on all sides of the table and God these people were trying to pawn her off and of course Marzia got to have her happy little Beilschmidt princess when all she got was-

A pair of green eyes shining with dark mirth. 

_-fear_. 

Chiara was drowning and burning alive and she had no idea how to stop it, how to lift the weight on her chest, on her hips- 

“Ah, give her some time Sanem. It’s a bit of a shock after all.” 

-she was falling and falling and nobody was there- 

“Of course. I understand completely. However, I would still like a chance to get to know Chiara, perhaps calm her nerves before the wedding.” 

-nobody was there and she was alone- 

“I was thinking of having a masquerade ball here to lighten the mood! You would be free to talk to Chiara for as long as you please there.” 

-and nobody came- 

“Thank you. I am very grateful for your kindness today.” 

- _nobody came_.

“And I am sure Chiara is as well.” 

Chiara’s chair skidded backwards as she abruptly stood up, running off and leaving behind the confused calls of her mother and the silent gaze of the Queen and those acidic green eyes watching her move. 

She didn’t know where else to go, had nobody else, and didn’t even think before she slammed open the door to Marzia’s bedroom. She vaguely heard her sister shriek at the noise, but none of it really registered in her head as she crashed straight into her arms. It didn't take long for the tears to start falling, fiery wrath tinged with bitter betrayal and above all else, that cold drench of terror that washed over her.

“Chiara, what’s wrong?! Are you hurt?! Should I call for Eliza? Or Anna? Or _Mamma_?” 

Chiara could feel Marzia’s voice starting to choke up with panic, her own eyes watering from where her face was pressed against the top of Chiara's head, but she could offer no answer to any of her questions, only wailing now that that phantom weight of those hands was gone. Marzia’s arms practically trapped her against her chest, desperately trying to comfort her sister and herself as they both fell apart, unable to help the other.

Chiara was barely aware of the quick footsteps approaching and a stern voice asking, “What happened? Who's hurt?” before another heavier set followed close behind and then a warm pair of arms wrapped around them both with a whisper of, “Oh, what have they done to you?”

Chiara didn’t know what was happening, but all she cared about was the fact that Marzia’s tears and Elizabeta’s murmurs and Anneliese’s silent guard at the door weren’t those faces at the table watching her run. They wrapped around her, desperate to pry the problem away from her hands, but they never weighed down on her like Sanem did. 

She didn’t know how many of her tears were for her family or for herself and by the time the exhaustion set in, Chiara couldn’t bring herself to care because God, it didn't matter. It just wasn't _fair._

She just wanted to have that love that Marzia got to have, but of course, she was foolish enough to think she deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there she is!!! there's our paris!!! i hate writing her!!! why is she so hard to write!!!


	8. The Shade of the Square

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)
> 
> Translations:  
> Mutter - Mother  
> Gracias - Thanks  
> Perdón - Excuse me

“Do we really have to come here?” Monika scanned the midday crowd of the town with unease, hand perched by the hilt of her sword. “You already heard what _Mutter_ said about fighting again.” 

“But you two are on your best behavior now!” Isabella protested, lounging on the wide stone steps leading to the church. “Why would you start a fight on purpose?” 

“Try asking Annie that,” Julchen scoffed, similarly sprawled out next to Isabella. 

After the rush of the morning markets, the rest of the day generally tended to slow down for Verona’s citizens as the heat made any thoughts of fighting too Herculean of a task to follow through with. Being in the direct sunlight was just barely short of Hell, but under the shade of the grand church above them, the trio managed to find a pleasant enough spot to rest. 

Around them, the few people who attempted to brave the summer weather quickly scuttled into the shadows, scattering in hopes of escaping the heat. This then granted the three the perfect opportunity to simply people-watch and not cause a fight. 

At least, not yet. 

“Hey, isn’t that Eliza over there?” 

Monika and Isabella trailed their gazes lazily from Julchen’s outstretched finger, landing on the sight of the nursemaid of the Vargas family leaning against the wall of a nearby store, squinting at a stack of small papers with a troubled look on her face. 

“I think so.” Monika turned to face the two, a slight frown blooming when she glanced over at Elizabeta again. “We should just leave her be.” 

“Doesn’t she look like she needs help though?” Isabella frowned, watching as Elizabeta fumbled with the letters before catching herself. 

“Absolutely not!” Monika snapped. “It doesn’t matter if she needs help or not, because _you_ are the last person anyone from Vargas’ side needs to see right now.” 

However, Isabella’s eyes continued to wander over to Elizabeta for long enough that Monika finally stood up with a groan, rotating her shoulders to work out the kinks in her back as she made her way down the stairs. “You owe me for this.” 

_"Gracias,_ Monika!

Monika quickly made her way across the square, eager to get out of the heat as quickly as possible when she arrived in front of Elizabeta.

“Hello Miss Héderváry,” Monika called out, waiting for the nursemaid’s head to turn and face her before she continued. “Is there anything I can help with today?”

Elizabeta let out a relieved sigh when she saw who it was, waving Monika over with a tired hand. “There is, actually. I don’t really care who does this, but I just need them over with.” 

“Of course.” Monika dipped her head in acknowledgement. “What is it?”

Elizabeta handed over a hefty stack of papers, all covered in a rambling cursive script that seemed to be made up of only one ridiculously long sentence. “Lady Vargas had a little too much to drink this morning before she wrote out these invitations and I have no clue what she’s put on here,” she sighed, eyeing a black ink smudge on the corner of the first invitation with distaste. “I don’t even know if these are the right papers at all!” 

Monika already felt a headache coming just looking at the illegible scrawl on the papers. She grabbed the first one and squinted at it for a moment, tilting her head ever so slightly in an attempt at translating Octavia’s invitations. After she held the paper up at a certain angle, Monika gave a satisfied hum. “I believe I know what it says, although I’m afraid I don’t have anything to rewrite it with.”

“That’s alright!” Elizabeta gave an easy smile. “I have a good memory. Just tell me who I need to bring it to.”

Together, the two slowly worked their way through the stack of drunken well-wishes and names, working through the beating sun above them. It was tedious at best and an absolute nightmare on the eyes at worst, leaving a very low set of standards for both women. Eventually, when the worst of the afternoon had passed, Monika and Elizabeta managed to finish up the last of Octavia’s guest list. 

“Thank you, Monika,” Elizabeta sighed. “I really don’t think I could have done this alone.” 

“It was no problem,” Monika replied politely, handing the papers back to their owner. “I do have to ask what all these are for though.”

Elizabeta seemed surprised to even hear that question. “You haven’t heard? Lady Vargas is throwing a masquerade ball tonight! Although, I guess if it’s a masquerade, then there was really no point in the invitations.” Elizabeta sighed before a sudden gleam flashed through her eyes.

“Say, you know Marzia, don’t you?” 

Monika blinked once. “I do. Did she need my assistance as well?” 

“No, no.” Elizabeta waved her question aside. “Lady Vargas is usually fairly lenient with our guest list, so Marzia has requested for you to come, if you’re available.”

Monika’s face lit up in a fiery blush that she hoped she could explain away with the midday heat. “Miss Vargas asked for me?” 

“Mhm!” Elizabeta replied happily. “You can bring along whoever you like, but make sure you stop by to say hi to Marzia if you come, alright?”

“I-” Monika had no idea how to finish that sentence. “Yes, of course. Thank you for telling me.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Elizabeta’s smile held a hint of amusement as she said her next words. “I just do what I can to help my girls out.”

With that, Elizabeta gave a cheery smile and a final wave before she made her way down a narrow block with the stack of invitations tucked away in her arms as Monika’s blush scaled down to her neck.

It took Monika a minute to recover from the rush of emotion the news gave her, patting her cheeks and briefly shaking her head as she made her way back to the church steps. 

As soon as she got within speaking range, Julchen was leaning up to lazily let her head fall onto her shoulders. “That looked like a disturbance of the peace if you ask me.” 

“That's your job,” Isabella sighed from next to her. “You were with her for a while though. Anything happen?”

The invitation loomed over Monika and threatened to make itself known on her face once again as she took a seat on the stairs just below them. “No, not much. We are invited to the Vargas’ masquerade ball later tonight though.”

“Awesome!” Julchen screeched, jolting up as if she had been struck by lightning. “Do you know how hard it is to crash one of those? They won’t even know what hit them!” 

“Wait.” Isabella’s head tilted with confusion as she looked over at Monika quizzically. “How _did_ you get us into the ball?” 

“According to Miss Héderváry, Marzia invited me and I was allowed to bring any other guests if I came,” Monika reported dutifully. 

A pause.

“Wait a minute,” Julchen grinned, leering at Monika the same way a predator stalks its prey. “Since when do you call Marzia anything other than ‘Miss Vargas’?”

Monika swiftly slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide as her blush returned with a vengeance. 

“’Oh, I had no idea you two were that close,” Isabella cooed, reaching up to pinch Monika’s cheek. 

“Shut up!” Monika groaned, tucking her head between her knees, only to have Julchen furiously ruffle her hair. “Just forget I said anything!” 

“Tough luck, lover girl!” Julchen crowed victoriously. “We’re gonna get you your dream woman tonight!” 

“Julchen, _shut up!_ ” 

“I haven’t seen either of them around that often,” Isabella admitted, “But I must say, from what I hear, you got some expensive tastes there.” 

Julchen cackled from her perch next to her sister, acting as Monika’s temporary personal harpy. “Oh, I _bet_ Marzia’s got an expensive taste to her!” 

“ _Julchen!_ ” 

Poor Monika was beet red down to her neck, hands trembling from where they tried to hide her face, and really, Isabella had to have a little bit of sympathy for the girl. 

“Come on now, we’ll both be with you!” Still, Monika remained curled away as far into her own palms as she could get. 

“Yeah, we’ll hook Isa up with someone too and it’ll be great!” Julchen added, nudging Monika’s ribs. 

“ _Perdón_?”

Julchen shrugged dismissively, circling one hand around in the air. “I mean, you’re looking for love, so we might as well pick up some work of art in a mask for you too!”

Isabella gasped, star-struck as her imagination ran wild with the possibilities of the night ahead before she snapped her hand up to point at Julchen. 

“But what about you?”

Julchen blinked. “What about me?” 

“We have to find someone for you too then! It’s no fun being the matchmaker all alone!” Isabella insisted, clapping her hands together cheerfully. 

“Don’t you already have something with Edelstein?” Monika murmured from her hands, tilting her head ever so slightly to see Julchen’s reaction. 

“Oh please!” Julchen’s hand waving became noticeably more frantic. “I know we’re rivals! Annie’s the one that keeps making it weird for both of us!” 

“And I’m sure Anna’s the one who suddenly made it a little hot for you, no?” Isabella teased, delighting in the way Julchen’s blush quickly doubled in depth. 

“Shut up! I refuse to be bullied by my own friends!” Julchen leaned down to nudge Monika one more time. “And at least Isa and I are searching for our hearts at the ball! You’re looking for something a little lower there, Moni.” 

Monika slammed her head down and screamed into her hands, drowned out by Julchen’s roar of laughter. 

“Well, we have to get ready then! The sun’s going to set in a few hours!” Isabella stood up, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. “I don’t even know what I’m going to wear yet!” 

“Definitely something elegant, since we’re going soul-searching,” Julchen piped up, standing up to throw an arm around Isabella and a wicked grin down at her sister. “With the kind of searching _you’re_ doing, I’d say go for something a little tighter around the chest.” 

“ _Julchen, I’m going to break your jaw!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip monika you died as you lived: a useless lesbian


	9. Family Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> Mamma - Mom  
> Piccola - Little one  
> Mimma - Child  
> Fragolina - Little strawberry  
> Idiota - Idiot  
> Stupida - Stupid

“You look beautiful, Chiara,” Elizabeta hummed, gently tying a red silk ribbon over her hair. 

“Shut up.” 

She didn’t mean to snap at Elizabeta, but the words burst from the tip of her tongue at the reminder of the ball. Sanem’s accepted proposal seemed to follow Chiara wherever she went, looming in the way Elizabeta hurried to straighten out her dress or the way Anneliese paced the halls with harsh words for any servants slacking off in their preparations. 

Even now, she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror without seeing a pair of green eyes behind her and tight hands on her waist. 

“Chiara.” Elizabeta’s hands smoothed down her hair, careful to avoid the stray curl on the side of her head. “Just because this is for Sanem doesn’t mean that you can’t go for yourself too, you know.” 

Chiara glanced up at Elizabeta’s smiling face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Calloused fingers continued to weave their way through her thick hair. “It means that you are still your own person, Chiara. Sanem doesn’t own you or your beauty or your words.” Warm olive green eyes met her own. “You aren’t married yet. Go to the ball for yourself. Enjoy this while it lasts! You are still young, no matter how many wrinkles you try to give yourself.” 

Chiara felt something warm in her chest at the thought, in a way she didn’t expect. For just one selfish moment, she allowed herself to imagine the ball without Sanem, just a night for her where she could dance and laugh and maybe even find someone to fawn over the way Marzia did. 

The fingers in her hair brought her back, tearing away the warm fantasy and leaving Chiara behind with a freezing scowl. 

“ _Mamma_ would fire you for saying that.” 

_“Mamma_ is doing what now?” 

Both Elizabeta and Chiara jumped at the new addition, clamming up as soon as Octavia set foot into the room. 

Almost immediately, Octavia burst into a full round of laughter straight from her belly, cheerful caramel eyes crinkling up with joy. “Looks like there’s some gossip I’m not supposed to hear then, huh?” 

Elizabeta stammered out a few words in a hasty attempt at an explanation, but was quickly cut off by Octavia’s hand.

“No, no, I understand! Ah, I almost forgot what it was like to be that young!” The last of Octavia’s mirth finally died down, leaving her to wipe her eyes. “And I almost forgot what I needed to do too!” 

She turned to motion towards the open door behind her. “Eliza, can you go find Marzia for me? Anna seems to be having a hard time keeping her under control.” 

“Of course, my Lady.” Elizabeta hurried out the door, the heavy wood quietly closing behind her until Octavia and Chiara were left alone. 

Chiara could feel Octavia’s torn gaze on her through the mirror, crossing her arms and looking off to the side in order to avoid it. 

“ _Piccola_ -” 

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

Octavia sighed and kneeled down next to her oldest daughter, resting her forearms on the edge of the vanity. “ _Piccola_ , I really am sorry about all this, but you have to understand that it’s out of my control.” 

“How the hell could you not fucking control marrying off your own damn daughter?!” Chiara snapped, uncrossing her arms to gesture broadly towards both her mother and herself. 

“Because that was Hilda’s choice, not mine,” Octavia murmured. “Unfortunately, I’m not the Queen. I don’t get to choose what happens in Verona.” 

“But you could do _something_!” Chiara was desperate, grappling for any sliver of hope in this mess of a situation. “Can’t you stop funding whatever Sanem is doing? Or get the Queen to stop hosting her here? Or-or-” 

“Chiara.” 

Chiara’s fumbled solutions all fell apart with Octavia’s gentle voice, softening to get ready for the fall they both knew was coming. 

“Come here, _mimma_.” 

Octavia opened her arms and allowed Chiara to fall into them, not at the point of crying, but gasping for breath regardless. Strong arms rubbed circles into the back of her dress as she cooed out tiny reassurances. 

“I’m sorry, Chiara.” 

“It’s not fair!” 

“I know, I know.” 

“You didn't even tell me I was getting married!” 

“That’s just the way things turned out, _fragolina_.” 

_“What the hell did I do to deserve this?”_

Octavia’s hands briefly stopped, carefully pushing Chiara back so she could see the twisted face of her daughter, unshed tears in her cinnamon eyes. 

“Chiara, I want you to be happy, but happiness always comes for a price,” she started softly. “I know you and Sanem didn’t get along, but the best I can do for you is help you two get on better terms with each other. I can’t push this marriage back any further than I already have.” 

It was then that Chiara realized that as kind as her mother was, she had no idea what she was talking about. 

Octavia was born independent, fighting her way through the hierarchy of the military to become a glorious commander and settling down in Verona on her own. She never had to be put to the mercy of those above her and she was never trapped by her own status. Octavia was free and powerful, unrestricted by just about anything to pursue her own dreams. 

Octavia loved her daughter, but she could never understand what Chiara had to face. 

“Get out.” 

Octavia perked up, a slight frown on her face. “Hmm?” 

_“Get out!_ ” 

Octavia said nothing else, concern lingering behind where she studied Chiara. There was nothing left to say between them and all she could do was squeeze Chiara’s shoulder once before she followed Chiara’s command and took her leave. Chiara didn’t miss the heavy sigh she gave before she closed the door behind her. 

Finally alone, Chiara slammed her face onto the table and forced herself to breathe through the rapidly tightening cinch around her neck. Her sentence was already determined and she could do nothing but wait for the time to come, trapped in limbo until she was free to fall. 

She would have preferred getting married now over being left to wait and fed false hope just so she could fall all over again. 

( _But isn’t there hope that she could find someone like Marzia?)_

Chiara’s train of thought was derailed by the rapid-fire knocking on the door before it flew open, Marzia barreling in with something in her hands. 

“Chiara! Chiara, look what I got!” Upon closer inspection, Marzia was holding something wrapped up in a handkerchief, which she opened up to reveal a small, now crumbling, piece of cake in her hands. 

Chiara stared at the cake for a moment before smacking her sister upside the head. “ _Idiota_. Aren’t Anna and Eliza looking for you right now?”

“Nope!” Marzia set the cake down, careful to make sure the crumbs stayed within the confines of her handkerchief. “I said I just wanted to see what everyone was doing before the ball and they told me to be careful! In fact, they didn’t even see me take this cake at all!” 

“ _You stole it?!_ ” 

Marzia shrieked when Chiara slapped her again, cowering behind her hands in order to fend off any other attacks. “There was a lot of food! It’s not like they would miss one slice!” 

“ _Stupida_! There’s going to be a whole damn cake with a piece missing! How are they not going to miss that?” 

“I’m sorry, Chiara!” Marzia wailed from her cover. “I just figured that you were looking so sad since _Mamma_ said the ball was today and I know you don’t want to see Sanem, so since eating always makes me feel better, I thought I would get you something too, and there was this really tasty looking lemon cake and I know lemon isn’t your favorite but that was the only one I could find, and so I just took a little slice for you but I’m sorry you don’t like it!” 

Chiara’s hand paused, raised in the air to strike again. 

“You got that for me?” 

Marzia nodded, whimpering quietly. 

Chiara wanted to be angry, wanted to rage at her like she did her mother, but she just couldn’t do it because Marzia understood. 

Marzia knew what it meant to be trapped by their mother, but she didn't know what it was like to be in Chiara's situation. Instead of general words of comfort designed to soothe a broken temper, she merely rushed to let Chiara do what she could to help herself, eager to assist in any way she could. 

Chiara sighed and set her hand down, tugging the handkerchief closer to her and breaking off a piece to hold out to her sister. “Don’t do it again.” 

Just like that, Marzia’s whole demeanor shifted, bouncing next to Chiara as she happily took the cake and popped it in her mouth, not a word coming from her lips. Chiara was grateful that she understood her unspoken request, quietly breaking off bits and pieces of Marzia’s treat for them to share in silence. 

Chiara didn't want warm hugs or honeyed words, so Marzia simply didn't give them to her. It was that simple gesture that solidified Chiara's thoughts on the ball, watching Marzia hush herself and wait for Chiara to hand her another piece with a bright smile. 

Chiara didn't have the kind of luck Marzia did when it came to love, but dammit she would at least be happy for her sister, even if she wanted nothing more than to have that luck for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i just cannot give chiara a break huh


	10. The Carriedo Estate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Lord Montague - Andrea Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Portugal)
> 
> Translations:  
> Ja, Mutti - Yes, Mom  
> Si - Yes

“Hurry up!” Julchen screeched, leaning her head into Isabella’s bedroom. “We’ll be crashing the clean-up party if you don’t pick up the pace!” 

“Just give us a minute!” Isabella’s hands fumbled with her belt, frantically tying it around her waist. “Monika doesn’t even have her shirt on yet!” 

“At least I remembered to put one on before I tried to tie my belt!” Monika snapped in response, her head popping out as her hands were already down to frantically get her boots on.

“ _God,_ you guys are taking _forever_!” 

“Shut up, Julchen!” came the chorused response from inside Isabella’s room. 

Eventually, the door slammed open with both Isabella and Monika bursting out, frantically brushing down their hair in their last-minute preparation. 

“You look great, now hurry up and move!” Julchen huffed, shoving them both down the hall towards the stairs. 

“Wait, do you even have your mask?” Monika tried to stop Julchen’s forward momentum, digging her heels into the ground to no avail. 

“ _Ja, Mutti!_ ” Julchen’s head nodded to the decorated mask tied around her belt. “Now move!” 

“And where are you three going?” 

The haphazard trio froze in their spots when they saw Andrea standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed and a wide grin on her face. 

Julchen and Monika shared a look with Isabella before they both practically jumped behind her, the sentiment of “your sister, your problem” translated loud and clear to Isabella. 

“Ah, _sí_ ,” Isabella hummed, desperately trying to catch either of the Beilschmidts' eyes for help before turning back to her sister with a nervous smile. “Uh, just around town, you know! Lovely weather tonight!” 

“Around town,” Andrea repeated slowly, eyeing Isabella’s outfit. “With the most expensive clothes you have.”

“Mhm!” Isabella’s voice jumped in pitch until only a squeak came out. “Family pride and all!”

Andrea had to be toying with her, especially with the shark-toothed grin that burst onto her face. “So you’re going out in your best clothes and a masquerade mask on the night of Vargas’ ball, just to go around town?” 

“Yup!” 

Isabella broke out into a cold sweat when she saw the glint in Andrea’s eyes, her older sister pacing forward to meet her with the confidence of someone who knew they had the upper hand. Just when she was sure she was going to scream or run, whichever impulse came first, Andrea suddenly broke out into laughter, wrapping a strong arm around Isabella. 

“God, there’s no way you learned how to lie from me!” she howled. “That was pathetic!” 

“Gotta admit, not your best work, Isa,” Julchen piped up from behind her. 

“She scared me!” Isabella shot back. “I didn’t have time to think!” 

“ _Just around town_ ,” Andrea mimicked, shooting the wide-eyed panic her sister gave her right back at her. 

Isabella groaned in despair, tossing her head back and rubbing at her eyes. “I’m not going to live this one down, am I?” 

“Absolutely not.” Andrea patted her shoulder before turning to Monika and Julchen, who were barely hiding their own amused grins. “You two make sure this one doesn’t get herself killed, alright?” 

“Of course.” 

“You got it!” 

“Good.” Andrea quickly dragged the trio into a hug before she shoved them towards the stairs. “Now hurry up! I expect to hear complaints for weeks about what you three did!”

“You’ll get them!” Isabella called back, hurrying down the stairs and out the door with Monika and Julchen by her side. 

Once they were past the walls of the Carriedo estate, their pace slowed down, more of an amble as they joked and shoved each other around the streets of Verona. The sun was giving off its last rays, a faint orange off to one broad sweep of the sky while the other was speckled with starry dots against a deep black canvas. The warm amber light of the lanterns down the street guided their way, lifting their moods and sparking a hopeful walk to the party. 

“Did your little Marzia say anything else to you that we didn’t hear about?” Julchen clasped her hands together to and graced the two with a fake pout and fluttering eyelashes. “Like, _oh Monika, you’re just so strong!”_

“Why do you insist on doing this?” Monika groaned, keeping her eyes on the ground as her face lit up bright red under the light of the lanterns. 

Isabella couldn’t help but join in, fanning herself as she leaned against the younger Beilschmidt. “ _Monika, you look so lovely tonight! Won’t you dance with me?”_

Sharp blue eyes widened at the thought of her dancing with Marzia before they squeezed themselves shut, pushing both Isabella and Julchen away to pace ahead of them. “God, you’re both insufferable!” 

“This is practice for the ball! You should be thanking us!” Julchen proclaimed, one hand thumping over her chest. 

“Mhm,” came Isabella’s wicked reply. “How are you going to deal with the real Marzia if you can’t even handle us?” 

“I don’t need to practice!” Monika’s hands were thrown up in exasperation. “If anything, go after Julchen! She doesn’t even know how to _talk_ to Edelstein without insulting her!” 

“Wrong!” Julchen smacked Monika’s hands out of the air. “Annie doesn’t know how to talk to _me_!” 

The two sisters bickered down the road to the Vargas estate, occasionally swatting at each other, but laughing good-naturedly nonetheless when Isabella joined in to tease them both. Sure, Isabella didn’t have anybody to be teased for like Monika and Julchen did, but she was still eager to support her friends however she could.

Isabella felt that warm rush of hope push her along towards the ball, guiding her forward towards her destination with eager footsteps. She could practically feel the excitement radiating from Monika and Julchen too, a certain lightness to their feet that she hadn't quite seen before. They were ready to meet the person they each had in mind and despite the lack of a face to picture, Isabella felt confident all the same. She knew the night would give her someone to call her own, someone she could gush about on the walk home.

It was just a matter of waiting until she stumbled upon that someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is kinda short, but i promise that next few ones will finally take place at the ball


	11. The Night Of The Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)
> 
> Translations:  
> I think I have everything repeated so much for the Italian bits that you guys get the general message. But if anyone wants me to put it here nonetheless, please tell me!
> 
> Also slightly important note at the end

The Vargas estate was bursting with life, filled with an infinite amount of grandly-dressed guests and idle conversation. Food drifted freely down the halls as light as the music that swayed through the air, burning torches cheerfully guiding all who came to the ball. Of course, it wouldn't be long before the wine started to flow and the formal atmosphere would fade away, but for now, it was still at least somewhat decent. 

People slowly started to fill the large room, forming a crowd of expensive fabrics and mundane chatter, although not everybody joined in just yet.

From one of the emptier hallways leading to the ballroom, Chiara and Marzia quietly watched as their home bustled into a splendid amount of action. 

“Look at _Mamma_ ,” Chiara mumbled, pointing a gloved hand over towards the entrance to the hall. “The poor bastards don't even know what hit them.” 

Marzia giggled as she followed her gaze and spotted the too-friendly handshakes and too-boisterous greetings her mother was giving, leading to a general aura of awkwardness as soon as the guests set foot inside. 

“Did you see Anna though?” Marzia whispered, eyeing the crowd for a moment before pointing out their guardian. “I think she might scare everyone away before _Mamma_ can say hi!” 

Sure enough, looming in the nearest corner of the entrance and looking extremely unhappy with how her night was going was Anneliese, dressed in her finest clothes and glaring at anyone who dared to even _glance_ in her direction. 

“I don’t know.” Chiara nodded her head towards the servant’s entrance. “Anna has some strong competition.” 

Both Chiara and Marzia had to stifle their laughs behind their hands when they saw Elizabeta darting in and out of the ball, mastering the fine art of going from snarling at a poor maid for handling a dish wrong to cheerfully greeting their guests within the blink of an eye. 

“How do they even manage to get this many people to show up?” Marzia’s eyes were alight with mirth, glancing at her sister with a teasing smile. 

“Getting them to show up isn’t the hard part,” Chiara retorted, “it’s getting them to _stay_ that really throws them off.” 

Marzia giggled and looked over the crowd again. “As long as everyone has a good time, then it can’t be too bad!” 

“ _Has a good time_ ,” Chiara snorted. “Yeah, you’re gonna make sure that Beilschmidt girl has a good time, huh?” 

“No!” Marzia’s face twisted from certainty to bashfulness in record time. “I mean, maybe.” 

Chiara only rolled her eyes and smacked her sister on the shoulder half-heartedly. “ _Stupida_.” 

With that, Chiara strode down the hall and into the crowd, glancing behind her shoulder when Marzia hesitated. “Listen, either you get out here and find that girl or _Mamma_ gets to her first and chases her away.” 

Marzia tripped over herself to catch up with her sister, pupils blown wide with panic. “You don’t think she left already, do you? Did she even come? Maybe I should have invited her myself.” 

“Shut up and start moving,” Chiara hissed. “I am not going to have you follow me around all night whining about that bastard if you’re not even going to _look_ for her.” 

Marzia whined, but dutifully kept her mouth shut as they made their way through the crowd, politely greeting any guests they passed. However, as time went on, Chiara could see Marzia’s face slowly start to fall as her eyes lost their previous shine, lagging behind her sister instead of bouncing to catch up. 

Chiara wanted to drag that stupid German up to the party herself so she could smack her for ignoring Marzia’s invitation and then smack her again for showing up. 

“I don’t think she’s coming,” Marzia said quietly, keeping her gaze focused on her hands instead of on the crowd. “I don’t know why I thought she would.” 

“She better come if she knows what’s good for her.” 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

Marzia continued to trail after Chiara, not a word of complaint coming from her, and that’s when Chiara knew that Monika’s appearance meant so much more to her than she first thought. 

With Marzia out of commision, Chiara took it upon herself to look over the sea of guests, the majority now occupying the dance floor while others stayed to rest on the sides. A few latecomers were still entering, saved from being greeted by their mother by their tardiness, but they too slowly disappeared gracefully into the crowd and vanished. 

However, a group soon entered that stubbornly refused to let themselves assimilate into the polite atmosphere of the room, desperately being held back by a broad-shouldered blonde. 

“Hey,” Chiara nudged her sister in the ribs. “Isn’t that your idiot over there?” 

Marzia’s eyes were slow to follow Chiara’s gaze, but the second she saw where her sister was looking, her face lit up bright pink as her hands flew up to her face. 

Chiara was right; Monika was there and dressed in some of the nicest clothes that Marzia had ever seen her (or anybody else) wear.

The stoic German was decked in a gray form-fitting shirt, covered in a charcoal velvet vest with silver vines curling around her chest with it all tied together with a belt that carried her sword. Loose ashy pants trailed down her legs and were caught by the tightly laced boots she seemed to wear every day. 

Hands clad in deep onyx gloves briefly reached up to adjust the intricately designed obsidian mask laced with pearly white gems that covered her face from the bridge of her nose upwards, the striking black contrasting wonderfully against her pale skin and fair blonde hair. 

Marzia seemed to have captured the entire night sky with the amount of stars in her eyes, eagerly pointing out her favorite guest to her sister. “It’s her! She really came! Look, Chiara, she even dressed up!” 

Chiara shook off the hand that tugged at her sleeve, scoffing and rolling her eyes. “ _Idiota,_ I’m the one who had to point her out to you! How blind do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, sorry!” Marzia bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes locked on Monika with complete focus. 

Chiara could only handle her sister’s blatant pining for so long before it got annoying. 

“Are you going to stand around and gawk all day or actually talk to her?” 

At that dismissal, Marzia was off like a shot, storming through the crowd with a one-track mind that was honestly slightly terrifying. Even from this distance, she could see Monika fumble her way through a greeting when Marzia rammed into her with a tight hug, completely destroying any hopes of remaining formal. 

It was nice to see Marzia so happy, even if it was with the peak of her poor taste in women. 

“She seems to be having fun.” 

Chiara tensed up when she felt an arm wrap around her waist, Sanem sidling up behind her to stand at her side. “It never gets dull with company around.” 

“I didn’t ask for your company,” Chiara hissed, shoving at the arm and freezing when it tightened even more, keeping her trapped in her place. 

Sanem leaned down to keep their conversation away from prying ears, fingers digging into her hip harshly enough to sting. “Maybe you didn’t ask, but I’m sure you’ll learn to accept it.” 

_(If I were you, I would learn to bite my tongue very soon.)_

Sanem’s arm slackened and fell, but her other hand was raised palm up as she waited expectantly. “May I have this dance, Miss Vargas?” 

Chiara only stared at Sanem, keeping her face as close to neutral as possible since a hint of any emotion would no doubt lead to a scathing remark sent Sanem's way. Reluctantly, she placed her own hand on top of Sanem's and had to hold back a wince when her grip tightened. 

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright sorry to bring to mood down, but i'm currently going through some family stuff right now and while it's not really that bad, it definitely put me out of the kind of headspace i need to write if that makes sense. i do have maybe 16-17 chapters stockpiled up, but i try to edit them before i post them, which has been a little hard recently. i honestly don't know if my update schedule is going to be affected by this at all, and i don't think it will, but just in case it is, i figured i might as well let you all know. that's all and thank you all so much for sticking with this so far!


	12. The First Waltz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> Mi dispiace - I'm sorry  
> Grazie - Thanks

“Is this really a good idea?” Monika murmured, glancing around the room filled with dancing couples and chattering acquaintances. 

Julchen tossed her head back and cackled, earning the three a few odd looks from the passing guests. “Aww, is someone getting a little nervous?” 

“No!” Monika snapped. “I’m just being cautious!” 

“I think someone’s getting nervous!” Isabella reached under Monika’s mask to pinch her cheek. “I’m sure you’ll be fine!” 

“Yeah!” Monika slapped Isabella’s hand away and glared at Julchen, who swung her arm around her sister. “You’ve practiced and everything!” 

“I didn’t even ask for your ‘practice’ in the first place!” A scowl twisted what was visible of her face. “I don’t know why you insist on pu-” 

Monika’s eyes drifted across the room and the scowl immediately dropped into a slack-jawed state of shock. 

“Oh my god, she’s pointing at me.” 

Isabella tried to peer through the throng of people between her, but she only managed to catch a glimpse of a grinning woman who she assumed to be Marzia pointing in their direction and talking with someone she couldn’t see. 

“Perfect! You don’t even need to go up to her! Just wait for her to come to you!” Julchen grinned. “You got this!” 

Julchen slowly backed off onto the sidelines as Isabella trailed behind her, offering a thumbs up and a confident, “Don’t worry about it!” before she disappeared as well. 

Leaving Monika alone. 

With no idea what to do. 

Luckily for her, Marzia already decided what to do when she came charging at her with the force of a bull, sending them both staggering backwards as Monika’s hands jumped to her waist to catch her. 

“Monika! I’m so glad you could make it! I got really worried that you wouldn’t want to show up, but then Chiara saw you over here, so I came to say hi!” 

Monika opened her mouth with every intention of responding like a normal person, but the moment she met a pair of warm honey eyes hidden behind a golden mask, her tongue caught in her throat and left her speechless. 

Marzia was absolutely radiating energy from her wide eyes to the way her long caramel hair was neatly tied up with a soft yellow bow, a few locks escaping the ribbon to frame her tanned face with her single ever-stubborn curl floating to her side. A long marigold ball gown hugged her petite frame, flaring out at the waist to sway with her every move. Pale white gloves covered delicate hands that Monika wanted to take in her own, fluttering throughout the air as she spoke. 

Marzia was bright enough to outshine the sun and Monika was blinded by the woman in front of her. 

Eventually, she managed to clear her throat, her face heating up under her own mask as she stammered out a response. 

“Yes, I, um, I apologize for being late.” She refused to look at Marzia’s face out of fear that she would find herself tripping over her words even more. “My sister makes it a point to be a hard person to travel with.” 

“Oh, Chiara is like that too!” The mask did nothing to cover the beaming smile on Marzia’s face. “She gets really grumpy if we have to go somewhere she doesn’t like, but that’s fine because I know I whine a lot if I don’t want to do something!” 

A small smile twitched at the corner of Monika’s lips. “Is that so?” 

“Mhm!” A few more strands of wavy auburn hair escaped Marzia's ribbon as she nodded. “Usually, that just makes Chiara even grumpier if I whine though, so I try not to do it as much when she’s upset!” 

“You seem to be very similar to Julchen then,” Monika commented. “She tends to complain if we’re told to do anything.” 

“Really?” Marzia hummed, one hand coming to adjust her skirt absentmindedly. “I guess that means you must be like Chiara then!” 

Monika chuckled to herself and risked a glance up to meet her eyes. “I never thought about that way before, but I suppose you’re right.” 

Marzia paused, pupils blown wide as she stared at Monika, whose relaxed state was quickly swapped for one of concern. 

“Is everything alri-” 

“You look amazing.” 

Monika promptly snapped her mouth shut, even as Marzia shook her head lightly and giggled to herself with a slight pink tint to her cheeks. 

“Did I say that out loud? _Mi dispiace_ , I forget to watch what I say a lot.” 

“No, no!” Monika quickly shook her head, hands coming up to stop Marzia’s apology despite the burning heat in her face. “You-you look beautiful too.” 

Marzia didn’t reply and for a moment, Monika’s stomach dropped straight to the floor at the thought that maybe she misinterpreted that comment, or maybe Marzia didn’t expect a compliment back, or maybe she was too forwa-

“ _Grazie!”_ Marzia beamed at her and bounced in place from foot to foot. “I’m so glad you think so! It took me a while to pick out which dress I wanted to wear and I think Eliza was ready to throw me out in a nightgown by the end of it.” 

The dress was beautiful of course, but Marzia alone put the fabric to shame, although Monika would rather stab herself in the foot with her own sword than admit _that_. 

“Yes, you chose very well.” 

Monika could feel the warmth radiating off of Marzia smother her, surrounding her with a cottony sense of comfort that wrapped around her and left her feeling hazy as the tension slid from her shoulders. She would never understand the kind of power Marzia had when it came to molding a relaxing atmosphere out of nothing, but she would be eternally grateful for the fact that she could experience it first-hand.

“Oh, Monika!” Marzia gasped, head whipping up when the music changed to a joyful and upbeat melody that had the crowd laughing and dancing together. “Come dance with me!” 

Monika immediately clammed up, face flushing as she shook her head. “I’m not very good at it. Shouldn’t you be dancing with the other guests, either way?” 

Marzia frowned and tilted her head, a confused look on her face. “But I want to dance with you!” 

Gentle hands wrapped around Monika’s own, coaxing her out into the crowd with a slight tug. 

“Really, I’m terrible at dancing,” Monika tried to explain, desperate to get away from the insistent pull at her hands. 

“That’s ok!” Marzia chirped. “I’ll show you how!” 

And with that, Monika was pulled into the crowd by a pair of glittering golden eyes and a cheerful smile. 

Almost instantly, Monika felt out of place with the elegant movements of the other couples, swaying and twirling to the upbeat tempo with graceful laughs and quiet conversations. 

However, Marzia’s hands guided her own into place, shifting one of Monika’s palms to rest comfortably against her waist while the other lightly intertwined with Marzia’s own. Her free hand briefly brushed against her cheek, fingers tracing over her jaw before they rested on her broad shoulder. 

“Just look at me.” 

With that, Marzia started to move, feet moving to sweep in a circle with a broad smile as Monika stumbled to catch up. The first few movements threw Monika into a heap of undignified limbs, face burning with embarrassment while Marzia seemed to glide across the floor with a gentle curve to every motion. 

But eventually, Monika managed to find the general gist of the motion, even if she was a little stiff, and followed Marzia’s instructions. 

It was a wonder to see Marzia dance up close, smiling just for her as her hair swayed from shoulder to shoulder with each spin. The music drowned out the others, washing them away until it was only Marzia in front of her, pressed against her chest and flying with the melody, pulling Monika up with her. 

Every so often, Marzia’s hand would squeeze Monika’s own, her pearl gloves contrasting comfortably with Monika’s obsidian, and her eyes would crinkle with laughter as they danced together, their gazes only for each other. 

When they lost their breath and felt their legs ache as the music changed, Monika and Marzia finally made their way to the side of the room to rest, flushed and giggling as they emerged from the dance floor. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Marzia let her hand fall from Monika’s shoulder, although the hand clasped around Monika’s own took longer to disconnect. 

“I suppose not,” Monika said with a smile. “You make an excellent teacher.” 

“That’s because I’m your _only_ teacher, silly!”

The last of their laughter quietly died down as they were left behind with a warm fondness that neither was willing to let go of. Slowly, the two separated, although their once-connected hands still twitched at their sides. 

“I need to get back to the others,” Monika started, already weakening when she saw the way Marzia’s smile fell ever so briefly before it recovered itself. “They’ve been waiting for me for a while now.”

“Ah, I forgot you didn’t come alone,” Marzia hummed. “Tell Julchen I said hi!” 

“Of course.” 

Still, the two didn’t part, gravitating towards each other until Marzia held her hand out, the back of a pristine white glove presented to Monika with a broad grin. 

Monika was surprised to say the least, especially since Marzia never concerned herself with such formalities before, but she still obediently bowed and pressed a quiet kiss to the back of her offered hand. 

Exactly how long the contact lasted or how red the two were afterwards was absolutely nobody’s business.

“Bye Monika!” 

“Farewell, Marzia.” 

Monika smiled at the sight of Marzia vanishing into the crowd, clutching one hand close to her chest. She was still in a daze, wrapped up in Marzia’s adoring gaze and careful touch, not quite paying attention to where she was going. 

It was a sheer stroke of luck that Monika caught sight of a familiar red cape and managed to get behind a passing group before Anneliese’s eyes caught her. 

Monika watched with bated breath as Anneliese’s line of sight trailed over to follow Marzia before looking over in her general direction with a frown, eventually turning to watch over something else. She had no idea if the mask would be enough to fool her, but she wasn’t taking any chances. 

Monika made her way around the room, set on warning the other two about Anneliese’s possible hunt. But no matter how she tried to remind herself of how serious the issue was, Monika could still feel her face heating up from her dance with Marzia and couldn’t stop the smile on her face from blossoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god they're so pure and i love them so much


	13. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

“How much do you wanna bet that Monika took her little Marzia somewhere private?” Julchen hummed, idly watching over the dancing crowd with a glass of wine in her hand. 

“Monika? Do you even know your own sister?” Isabella took a sip from her own glass with an amused smile. “Marzia’s absolutely the one who led her away.”

Julchen snorted, rolling her eyes in disbelief. “That girl couldn’t seduce a rock if her life depended on it! How the hell would she get Monika in bed with her?” 

“I don’t know,” Isabella shrugged, “but I know she has a better chance than Monika!” 

Anyone listening in on their conversation was quickly deterred by the subject matter, completely inappropriate for a civilized ball. However, Julchen and Isabella paid little attention to things such as social standards, content with drinking their wine and arguing over the predicted ending of the night for the youngest member of their trio. 

In fact, their argument got heated enough that they almost missed the arrival of said friend until Isabella threw her hand up and nearly smacked Monika in the face.

“Oh, Monika!” Isabella quickly dropped her hands. “We weren’t expecting you so early!” 

Monika’s head tilted with a slight frown, confusion prevalent in her icy blue eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be back?” 

Julchen opened her mouth with a wicked grin and Monika immediately raised her hand to silence her. 

“Forget I asked.” 

“Well, someone’s no fun,” Julchen huffed, although her grin quickly returned. “Anyways, how was it? Did you get to dance with your precious little Marzia?” 

Monika’s face erupted into a violent shade of red, although instead of barking at her sister to shut up as usual, her voice seemed to hush itself. "I did."

Julchen burst into a deafening amount of laughter while Isabella shrieked with delight. 

“How was it?” 

“Did you two kiss?”

“Am I getting a sister-in-law?” 

“Can I be the godmother?” 

Monika rapidly shook her head, groaning as the two swarmed her with questions. “You both just have to make it dramatic, don’t you?” 

“That’s like, in the job description!” Julchen leaned over to snatch a glass of wine from a passing servant and pawned it off to Monika, who accepted it without question. “Now, talk!” 

Monika paused to take a hearty drink, more than she would usually start with. “There’s not much to say,” she reported, blinking a few times to take in the alcohol. “Marzia taught me how to dance and we just talked for a little afterwards.” 

Julchen groaned, tossing her head back while Isabella frowned. “Fine, be stingy with the details! And after everything we did for you.”

“There has to be more to it than that!” Isabella insisted. “Didn’t anything else happen?” 

Monika hummed thoughtfully, eyes glazing in concentration before they snapped back up to the two with a newfound urgency. “There was. I think Edelstein suspects something. I saw her watching Marzia and I as I left. I don’t think she knows who I am, but be careful regardless.” 

“Lame!” Julchen chugged down the rest of her wine in a few gulps. “Where’s that uptight princess stationed at?” 

“Somewhere in that corner, but she may have moved since I last saw her,” Monika answered, pointing off in the opposite direction. 

Isabella really did try to see where she was pointing, but that quickly became a pointless task in the flurry of dresses and masks that covered up the middle of the room. She settled for looking out for any hint of the deep reds that Anneliese preferred to wear, something much easier to identify. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabella caught a glimpse of scarlet and whipped around, ready to point out Anneliese’s watchful gaze to the other two- 

-and froze. 

Instead of the guardian of the Vargas family, Isabella saw a woman she could only have the chance of meeting in her dreams. 

A rich cherry red dress flowed at her feet as she spun with her partner, a pair of black gloves covering her hands, although they seemed to tense up as she swept across the room. Isabella couldn’t see her face with the crimson mask obscuring the majority of her features, but she saw enough to be entranced by the deep tan skin and firmly set glare. Dark chocolate hair fell freely down her shoulders, kept out of her way with a red ribbon and swaying with her dress in a beautiful blend of color. 

All of the her attention was directed at her partner, a cold stare keeping her head forward and leaving only a slim chance behind of revealing anything else about her face. Still, Isabella leaned over, desperate to get a better look, and promptly lost her breath when she caught a glimpse of fierce amber eyes through the intricate mask. 

She was a woman to be respected and Isabella couldn’t have fallen faster for her if she tried. 

“-sa? Hey, Isa, you home?” 

Isabella shook her head and turned to face her friends. “Hmm? What is it?” 

Monika sighed as Julchen laughed, patting Isabella on the back with one hand as the other held her glass in the air. “Did you get a little crush too?” 

“Mhm,” Isabella replied dreamily, head lolling back to search for the mysterious woman. 

Silence. 

“ _What?!_ ” 

It was the sheer volume that the Beilschmidt sisters reached that snapped Isabella out of her daze, blinking rapidly to clear her head. “Huh? What is it? What happened?” 

Monika just stared at her, eyes wide as Julchen flailed about. 

“What happened?! _What happened?!_ We should be asking you that!” Julchen screeched, throwing her hands up so violently that she would have undoubtedly drenched the guests next to her if her glass were full. 

“I don’t understand,” Isabella frowned, turning to Monika in hopes of getting an explanation only to receive a shocked look. “Really, why do you two look like that?” 

“Because it’s finally happening!” Julchen grabbed Isabella’s shoulders and yanked her close, pressing their heads together as she looked around the room. “Which one was it? Point them out!” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” Isabella shoved the girl away with some difficulty, still hopelessly confused about the whole situation. 

“You just admitted that you were attracted to someone,” Monika finally explained, although she looked like she still needed a minute to recover. 

“And I want to know who it is!” Julchen waved her hand to sweep over the entirety of the ballroom. “I’ll stop every person at the door until you say it’s them! Don’t think I won’t!”

Isabella chuckled and nursed her glass of wine with a little more fervor. “Ah, I don’t think that’ll be much help. I don’t know who that was either.” 

“It might be safer to keep it that way,” Monika added with a hint of concern. “This ball was intended for friends of the Vargas’. Most of the people here are probably enemies of your family.” 

“Like that stopped you!” Julchen waved off the warning with ease. “You’re the one who jumped at the chance to sneak in and meet up with your lover girl.” 

“Julchen, I'm being serious!” Monika snapped, growling out her words in an attempt to get her point across. “It’s better to forget about this before it gets out of hand!” 

“I think I can decide for myself.” 

Isabella found herself searching for the woman again, disappointed to find her missing before she glanced back at the sisters. “I’m going to dance with her, whether you two like it or not.” 

Monika opened her mouth to retort and was quickly cut off by Julchen. 

“Say she can’t find her and I’m banning you from seeing Marzia again.” 

“That’s differen-” 

"I don’t think so.” 

Julchen shot her sister an unusual glare, harsh enough to resemble her mother. “Isn’t that what you’re telling Isa to do? Pretty unfair if you get to keep talking to Marzia while Isa can’t even meet the poor bastard she likes.” 

It wasn’t often that Julchen took on the Beilschmidt power of presenting a point with enough of a steel resolve to withstand a hurricane, but when she did, it was terrifying for everyone involved. 

Monika visibly struggled with herself, face twisting between concern and anger before she finally sighed. “I can’t argue with that.” 

The cold look on Julchen’s face melted away, swiftly replaced by a beaming grin. “Great!”

Her attention whipped to Isabella, whose eyes were still wide from Julchen's snap in behavior. “Now, how are we getting you that dance?” 

It took Isabella took a minute to get back to reality before she shook her head with pursed lips. “It looked like she was dancing for a while with the same partner. Not very happily, but I still doubt that they’re going to separate easily.” 

“Hah, lame!” 

Julchen shoved her empty glass at Monika, eyes locked on a target only she could see as she wiped her lips with a brush of her hand and smirked. “You just need a distraction.”

Isabella and Monika both turned to see what Julchen had zoned in on and saw the familiar red cape of Anneliese Edelstein flutter in the distance. 

By the time they looked back, Julchen was gone without a trace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has taken over 20k words,,, but they are at least a w a r e of each other now  
> and y'all get one guess as to what julchen's distraction is


	14. The Second Waltz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Anneliese was certainly less than pleased with the outcome of the ball. 

Octavia’s scattered preparations left much to be desired in the hopes of hosting a formal event, mixing those who expected a casual get-together with those who came with the all the forward-thinking hopes of the aristocracy in a rather messy clash of intentions. If it weren’t for Elizabeta’s iron hand over the servants to send out a constant stream of food and wine, Anneliese was sure that at least half of the guests would have left as soon as they stepped foot inside the Vargas estate. 

Anneliese glared at a drunken couple who stumbled by her, giggling and fumbling for a hold on each other as they hurried off together down a more private hallway. She was tempted to stalk after them for behaving so indecently in public, but decided against it as the two vanished. 

There were other, more important, issues at hand to be dealt with, such as the arrival of the uninvited youngest Beilschmidt on the dance floor. 

Anneliese wasn’t sure if the young woman Marzia was with was Monika for sure, but the fumbling steps and pale blonde hair drew too close of a resemblance for her to ignore it. She had no intention of enjoying the party herself, but this new lingering threat solidified her cautious sense of duty. 

There was no way Monika would have chosen to come on her own, and if Anneliese knew the girl half as well as she thought she did, then her brat of a sister or the sorry excuse of a Carriedo would be with her. 

Although, Anneliese mused, hand twitching to reach for a sword that wasn’t there, Isabella had been suspiciously absent for quite some time. Anneliese had no qualms about using force to drag Isabella out of the estate, dead or alive, if she dared to set foot in her home- 

“Hey there Annie!” 

-but Julchen’s insufferable attitude would be a bold enough match for her strength. 

Anneliese just about jumped out of her skin when a hand clad in a wrinkled white glove slapped her on the shoulder, whipping around to come face to face with Julchen Beilschmidt herself. 

“ _You!_ ” Anneliese snarled, quick to grab Julchen’s wrist and twist it to keep her in her place. “What do you think you’re doing here?” 

“Uh, having a good time?” Julchen huffed, rolling her eyes with a grin. “Don’t you know what a ball is?” 

“Yes, I know what a ball is!” Anneliese’s grip tightened as she shot a glare at a passing group who quickly bowed their heads when their attempt at eavesdropping was caught. “What I want to know is why you’re at this one!” 

Julchen laughed, the harsh sound grating against the pleasant music. “Why _can’t_ I be at this one? It’d be pretty rude of you to kick the Queen’s family out, you know.” 

“You weren’t even invited in the first place!” Anneliese hissed, eyes narrowing when Julchen remained unbothered by her growing anger. “It’s my duty to keep the guests of this ball safe, and I will _not_ have you wreck havoc here.” 

Her free hand shot out to yank the back of a passing servant’s collar, dragging him close with her glower never leaving Julchen’s eyes. “Get my sword from my quarters.” 

At the hesitant look that slowly unfurled on his face, Anneliese turned her glare onto him. “ _Now.”_

The man was off in a flash, scurrying through lengthy skirts and billowing capes in order to make his way deeper into the Vargas estate, leaving Anneliese and Julchen alone in the crowd. 

“Well that’s a little harsh.” 

“Be quiet!” Anneliese felt absolutely no remorse when she dug her nails into Julchen’s gloved hand, earning a quiet wince. “Since you insisted on coming up here to make a scene, you’ll be leaving in one too.” 

“Annie!” Julchen gasped, mock offense smeared across her smug face. “You would throw an innocent guest out with a sword? What happened to that upper class courtesy of yours?” 

“My courtesy is saved for those who deserve it.” Anneliese felt her fingers long for the smooth grip of her blade when she saw the servant returning with a familiar sheath. “I doubt you would know anything about such refined topics.” 

“You’re right. I don’t.” Julchen was barely containing her ecstatic smirk at this point. “But I bet she does.” 

Anneliese's face dropped when she saw Octavia stumble up to the servant with a confused look on her wine-flushed face, gesturing broadly enough that Anneliese could understand her question from the other side of the room. The two seemed to converse, or rather Octavia bullied the servant into putting the sword back, before they parted and the lady of the house made her way directly over to the pair. 

“Anna! What’s all this talk about bringing a sword down here?” Octavia called out, a frown on her face as she finally got close enough to look between the two with an equal amount of confusion. “This is a party! You’re supposed to be having a good time, not picking fights with the guests!” 

Anneliese released Julchen’s wrist to rub at her temples, tilting her head towards the ceiling with exasperation. “I’m _supposed_ to be protecting the people here. I am not off duty for such a large event, my Lady.” 

“Nonsense!” Octavia reached out to throw a loose arm around Julchen’s shoulders and drag her to her side. “This is for everyone to enjoy, including this lovely young woman you’ve been talking to!” 

Julchen was practically vibrating with sheer joy at the absurdity of the situation while Anneliese’s jaw dropped. 

“Do you even know who that is?” Anneliese tried desperately, pointing at the grinning Beilschmidt still under Octavia’s arm. 

“Nope!” she replied cheerfully. “And it doesn’t matter! What matters is you getting out there with her and having some fun!” 

“Well you see,” Julchen started, basking in the way Anneliese’s eyes seemed to beg for her to shut up, “I was just trying to ask Miss Edelstein for a dance since she looked so lonely standing around on her own, but it seems like I’m not wanted around here.” 

“Of course not! I’m sure Anna would love to dance with you!” Octavia’s head lolled to face Anneliese, who paled so quickly she nearly matched Julchen’s silver hair. “Isn’t that right, Anna? What a nice lady you got here!” 

Anneliese sputtered out fruitless explanations and complaints, pointing at Julchen who only leered back at her from Octavia’s side. “I’d be honored to have the pleasure of dancing with Miss Edelstein.” 

Octavia roared with laughter and shoved Julchen and Anneliese onto the dance floor. “I’m sure you are! Now go have a good time!” 

“My Lady!” 

Anneliese tried to storm off after the drunken Octavia, but was whipped back around by a firm hand on her waist. 

Julchen’s scarlet eyes were teasing, peering out from behind a mess of platinum locks and an intricate pearly mask that seemed as haphazardly designed as the rest of her outfit. She was dressed in the same black boots and stormy gray shirt as her sister, but a bright white vest with charcoal vines wrapping around her chest and matching alabaster pants that were fitted snugly to her legs separated the two. Her pale features as the amount of frosty white in her clothes made her a beacon in the crowd, beaming with enough light to outshine the torches around them as her sword swung by her hip.

“Well, it’s awfully rude of you to refuse a dance, Miss Edelstein.” Julchen’s other hand crept up to take a hold of Anneliese’s own, already turning the pair around to match the other couples. “And to think that you were getting on me about courtesy.” 

Anneliese wanted nothing more than to drag the girl out by her messy hair, but a quick glance around confirmed the fact that they were already gathering too much attention from the others. Julchen’s expectant eyes were waiting for her to realize she had no way out, studying her with glee until Anneliese finally clamped her hand down on Julchen’s shoulder and took the other with a glare. 

She didn’t want to dance with Julchen and by God would she make sure that woman knew it. 

“Your behavior doesn’t leave much room for courtesy to be granted, Miss Beilschmidt.” 

With the bursting intensity of the music into a deep and formal waltz, Julchen and Anneliese made their way across the dance floor with long steps and a constant push in their arms. 

Anneliese’s scarlet cape whipped around her body, wrapping around formal black pants and a ruffled shirt as black gloves tightened their grip to force Julchen’s shoulder in the direction she wanted to go. Of course, Julchen resisted with her own tug at Anneliese’s waist, yanking her through the crowd with a burning grin. 

Together, the mixture of proud red and flashing white brought the attention of the guests to the couple struggling through a dance, each party pushing for their own movement. The two were well aware of the attention they were drawing and responded only by fighting against each other even more, desperate to come out on top until their waltz became a walking strangle. 

They clashed and wrestled with the music, firm violet and maroon gazes locked until it was clear to all watching that Anneliese Edelstein and Julchen Beilschmidt didn’t need weapons to fight one another. 

They were aware of the fact that the guests were slowly starting to dance around them, gradually leaving a ring of space around the two that grew wider and wider as more people fled to escape the one-track warpath that stopped for no one. However, neither of them paid any mind to the growing wariness in the room, eyes only for their enemy as their battle was thinly veiled under the guise of a dance. 

“You disgust me,” Anneliese grimaced, thrusting her leg forward to change their direction as the hand on Julchen’s shoulder yanked her backwards to complete the rotation. 

“I’m honored,” Julchen cooed in response, shoving Anneliese down their new path by the palm of her hand on her waist. “High praise from such a lovely lady.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chaotic gays??? chaotic gays


	15. The Final Waltz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

“Isn’t this more pleasant than hiding away in the hall alone?” Sanem mused, guiding Chiara in a waltz with a layered smile. 

“Not by much,” Chiara settled for answering, holding back the much harsher response burning on the tip of her tongue. 

Sanem’s face never changed, but Chiara felt her rub her thumb across the back of her hand with a little more force than before. “That’s no way to treat your wife.” 

Chiara dug her nails into Sanem’s shoulder, squeezing her other hand tight enough to hear a faint crack nearly drowned away by the music. “I’m not your wife.” 

“Not yet.” 

The two slowly made their way across the floor, passing other guests gracefully despite Chiara’s hesitance to move. Not that she had much of a choice, if the grip Sanem had on her waist had anything to say. 

Feigned pleasantries and underlying glares filled their dance, a tense waltz that had Chiara's defenses raised now more than ever before. They were in a public space, and the conversation between them wasn't getting into any dangerous territory, but something about the way Sanem talked just made her twitch with the need to run.

Although, whatever else Sanem wanted to say was quickly interrupted by a silver and crimson storm that swept by them, nearly shoving the two off of the floor before they could recover. Sanem’s eyes narrowed to follow the dysfunctional pair and Chiara had never been so happy to see Anneliese’s temper in full swing before now. 

“Isn’t that your mother’s guard?” Sanem questioned, eyeing the two with more than a hint of displeasure. "I thought she would be on duty tonight.

“It’s a ball.” Chiara's hold on her tongue briefly slipped with the chaos in front of them. “Getting everyone to dance is the point of the damn thing.” 

Sanem’s face flickered into something furious before it quickly molded itself over with an easy smirk and Chiara’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of those eyes pinning her down despite her carefree expression. 

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t know about how a proper ball works,” she mused. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn eventually.” 

Chiara could hear the threat woven between her words, the unspoken “or else” looming over her until it felt like she was suffocating under the pressure. Just when her chest started to tighten dangerously, Sanem stepped back, never dropping her arm from Chiara’s waist to drag them both safely away from the floor. 

“Let’s go find your mother then. It’ll be a good lesson for you.” Sanem started to pull her off, away from the crowd and Chiara felt the pressure bear down on her even more when she realized that she would be alone with Sanem. 

“No!" Her heels dug into the floor, staying put to force Sanem to stop. “I’m hosting this. Isn’t the hostess supposed to stay with the guests?”

Sanem paused and turned back to Chiara, who still felt the slightest twitch in her hand no matter how hard she willed it to stop shaking. There was a brief lull before her smile grew wider, and Chiara knew she wasn’t fooled. 

“I do believe you’re right.” Sanem’s hand briefly tightened around Chiara’s waist before it fell back to her side. “I’ve kept you long enough then.” 

She waved her hand off towards the general direction of the crowd and took a step backwards. “Go ahead and entertain your guests.” Sanem bowed and took Chiara’s hand one last time. “I’ll find you later, Miss Vargas.” 

Chiara felt her press a too-long kiss to the back of her hand, glancing up with amusement when Chiara jerked in place in an averted attempt at yanking her hand back. Without another word, Chiara took off and didn’t dare to look behind her, leaving Sanem behind for the safety of the ballroom. 

When she arrived, Chiara didn’t feel much better off when she faced the mass of people alone.

Marzia was missing, likely off chattering with whatever group of people she managed to charm her way into or dragging her beloved Beilschmidt around at the speed of light. Anneliese was too busy with her partner, and Chiara was willing to bet that it was Julchen she was currently grappling with, to be stopped to talk to her. On top of that, Chiara only caught brief glimpses of Elizabeta’s flowy red dress, popping in and out between the guests to keep the servants in order before disappearing again. 

Chiara was alone, but she would have taken that isolation any day over being forced to talk with Sanem. 

She chose to make her way along the side of the room, passing by guests without an apologetic word and swiping a glass of wine from a maid to pass the time. Within a minute, Chiara was stationed by the wall, standing by herself as she gulped down her drink and stared disdainfully out into the crowd. 

Happy couples and playful friends followed each other to the sway of the music, entertainment freely coming and going with idle chatter and contagious laughter. Once Anneliese was done wrestling with Julchen and the two separated with a few choice words that Chiara could see them toss at each other from the other side of the room, the dance floor slowly repopulated itself once more. The brief interlude was soon glossed over with the help of more drinks and a new melody to draw more dancers into the mix. 

In some small part of her chest, she could feel the slightest pang with every beat of her heart when she saw the laughing pairs that danced together, but it was quickly shoved back down. There was no use in mourning something she never had in the first place.

Time went on and the party continued without her, much to her relief. Nobody asked to talk to her, nobody insisted on a dance and nobody came to drag her away. Perhaps the only complaint Chiara had so far was that she found her glass empty much too soon.

But as she glared at the cup for daring to run out of wine, a light tap on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts.

“Excuse me, but are you alright?” 

Chiara glanced up with a sharp remark ready to fire, but the words died in her mouth when she was met a pair of warm emerald eyes looking right back at her. 

The woman in front of her was dressed in a fine white blouse, azure vest wrapped around her chest with crimson, navy blue and royal purple flowers entwining themselves across the heavy fabric. Hands hidden under white gloves rested by her hips, occasionally bumping into the sword kept on her belt or her strong thighs covered with tight black pants. Dark sun-kissed skin was swallowed up under her lapis tinted mask, chocolate brown hair tied up in a loose bun with a few wavy strands falling against her cheeks in an impromptu frame for her face that refused to stay pinned down to her head. 

What struck Chiara the most though, were those vivid green eyes, nearly overflowing with the amount of life that was poured into them. 

Chiara had no idea what to do, and so she found herself reverting back into the familiar safety of lashing out. 

“What, did you come up here just to tell me I look pathetic?” she snapped, holding her glass up like a blade to point at the woman’s chest. “I can do that just fine on my own!”

Chiara never regretted saying something so quickly in her life when the woman’s eager eyes dulled, a slight frown quirking at her lips. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted to be alone.” The woman bowed her head and looked back up with a kind smile, although there was a hint of something else there that briefly flashed through her eyes. “I’ll be on my way then. Have a nice night!” 

Chiara’s jaw dropped, fumbling to hand her useless glass off to a passing servant as the woman walked away. She had expected her to insist on talking, maybe even try to get her to dance, but she didn’t think that she would just _leave_. 

“Wait!” 

Both of them seemed shocked at the sudden yell that left Chiara’s lips, freezing in place with an equal amount of surprise on both ends. 

Chiara managed to recover first, desperately trying to pull herself together as she stammered out an explanation. “I didn’t say you could go! Don’t you know how rude it is to walk out in the middle of the damn conversation you started?” 

The woman stared at her, confusion scrunching her lips up before she let out a burst of laughter that shone in her eyes. “You’re right,” she chuckled, a teasing lilt to her words as she returned to Chiara’s side. “Please forgive me, Miss…?” 

Chiara nearly told her, but quickly shut herself up when she remembered the whole reason for the ball and Sanem’s looming proposal. “None of your business,” was the answer Chiara settled for. “Why the hell do you think I’m wearing a mask?” 

The gleam in the woman’s eyes returned tenfold as she smiled to herself. “Ah, I’m just forgetting all my manners tonight, aren’t I?” 

Chiara scoffed and crossed her arms, choosing to ignore the fact that she hasn’t been exactly polite to her guest. “You’re lucky I’m feeling forgiving today.” 

“I really am.” 

God, the amount of sincerity behind those words had no right to be there. 

“Hmph.” Chiara looked over the woman, studying her carefully as she spoke. “What brought you here?” 

“My friends had some people they wanted to meet here,” she answered easily, “although, if I’m being honest, I’m a little scared to leave them alone.” 

“Don’t like crowds?” Chiara allowed herself to relax, posture slouching ever so slightly. 

“Oh no, _I’m_ fine with them.” Playful lips curved up into a beaming grin. “I’m just afraid for the sake of everyone else here if I leave them unsupervised.” 

Chiara couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, although her hand quickly came up to slap over her mouth to muffle it. Striking green eyes widened before they crinkled up with joy to join her with a chuckle. 

“You? Supervise them?” Chiara’s cheeks hurt with the force of the grin that sprang up onto her face. “I wouldn’t trust you to watch over a rock.” 

The woman’s jaw dropped with mock offense, although it never quite reached her eyes. “I’m perfectly responsible!” she argued with a huff. “I got us all here, didn’t I?” 

“And then you decided to let them run loose to come bother me, yeah.” 

“I didn’t let them run loose! They took off on their own!” 

“That’s even worse!” 

Chiara felt the weight of the ball lifting from her shoulders as she bantered with the woman, sharing teasing remarks and light jabs in their little corner of the party. Something about the way the woman laughed and chattered so freely coaxed Chiara to do the same, leaving her lighter than air as they talked endlessly in a way that Chiara never experienced before. 

It was when the melody drifting down the hall changed to a slow, tender waltz did their conversation briefly die down, pausing to watch as the couples shook off their past carefree liveliness and stiff formality to meet together in the center of the room. 

The woman watched the change with a fond sigh, gaze lingering on the passing couples that twirled by them in a close dance. Chiara wasn’t blind to the way her bright green eyes glazed over slightly in thought, forcing her to pick their conversation back up herself. 

“Did you already dance tonight?” she asked, snapping the woman’s attention back to her. 

“Oh, no, not yet.” A small chuckle left her as she shook her head. “To be honest, I was waiting for the chance to dance with you.” 

If it had been anybody else, Chiara would have already slapped them and it probably would have done nothing to hinder their attempts at following her. But for this woman, who bolted at the first sign that she might have made Chiara uncomfortable, Chiara allowed herself to waive her standards just a little. 

“Sure.” 

Her eyes widened with unhidden eagerness. “Really?!” 

“Of course not!” Before her partner could speak, Chiara finished her final demand. “Ask me properly first! You’ve been pretty damn rude this whole evening!” 

The woman stared at her, lips parted with shock for a moment before she burst into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be!” 

“Then hurry up and fix it!” 

“I will, I will!” 

Their voices quieted down after the last of the laughter faded away, leaving a warm glow behind that carefully knitted the two together. 

Finally, the woman bowed low, taking Chiara’s hand in her own and brushing her lips against the silk glove in a brief moment of contact, a fragile connection that was easily broken when she peered up at Chiara with a kind smile on her face. 

And for a moment, the world paused, holding its breath as a pair of vivid green eyes met bright amber.

“May I have this dance, Miss?” 

The ball had ceased to exist, guests and couples alike fading away into the swell of the melody until all that was left behind was the woman’s warm touch, palm gently holding up Chiara’s own and the spark of her brief kiss that ran up her arm to flutter in her chest. 

There was nothing left to drag Chiara down, nothing to stop her from embracing the brief rush of freedom that waited so patiently in front of her.

Chiara wrapped her thumb around her partner’s hand to keep her in place, wishing for just a brief moment that their gloves could disappear so she could feel what it was like to have that hand in her own. 

“Only because you asked.”

And with that, Chiara allowed herself to be guided onto the ballroom floor, a gentle tug carefully pulling her along to sweep her into the music.

Almost immediately, Chiara could spot the differences between her mystery guest and Sanem. Where Sanem tugged and pressed to hold her down, this woman lifted her up and supported her with light touches meant to guide, not control. 

Ever so carefully, one gloved hand came to rest on her hip, never tightening or pulling her along, but leaving her free to break away if she so pleased. “Is this alright?” the woman asked quietly, slowly starting to sway to the side to lead them in their waltz. 

Chiara’s hand came up to rest on her shoulder, pressing herself just the slightest bit closer to a chest decorated with stitched flowers. “It’s good enough.” 

The woman tilted her head back and laughed, a few rebellious locks of chestnut hair escaping her bun to curl lazily around her face. “I’ll take that!” 

Together, they glided across the floor, swept up in an easy hold that drained the rest of Chiara’s tension from her body. Her scarlet skirt swayed with their dance, wrapping around the woman’s legs as they traveled together. While her partner led the way, Chiara was free to move as she wished, tilting in expectation of stepping in one direction and quickly being met by her partner to guide her. 

They found a careful balance, tuned in to the other’s movement to match with equal grace with keen eyes locked on each other. There was no need for curt apologies or internal spite, only a new freedom that let them leave the world around them behind. 

Chiara could feel the warmth emanating from her partner, as vibrant as the summer air around them. She moved with a lightness unburdened by the world around them, spurring Chiara to do the same until it felt like she was floating, swept up in the arms of the woman in front of her. 

Chiara was waiting for the moment when those arms would tighten, would finally start to move her where they wanted her to be, but they always stayed relaxed, not once trying to restrain her and allowing her to ease into them as well. Chiara had never had anyone who allowed her to do as she pleased and for that, she felt a spark of admiration deep in her chest for her partner.

Chiara could have danced with her forever, held by a gentle hand and charming grin that she allowed herself to fall into, but out of the corner of her eye, Chiara saw a familiar pair of acidic green eyes emerging from the hall and felt a rush of piercing cold stab through the dreamy air around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i tried to make this more serious and Romantic, but they're both such big gay idiots that this scene refused to come out any other way no matter how many times i rewrote it so this is what you're getting now


	16. An Unnamed Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara froze when she saw Sanem emerge from the hallway, expectantly searching the crowd with her hands behind her back. 

It was only when her partner nearly crashed into her did she manage to snap out of it, a quiet, “Is something wrong?” murmured to her as they slowed their pace. 

That little question was enough to snap her back into reality, driven by sheer impulse when she grabbed the woman’s hand and yanked her off the dance floor, running as best she could in her dress and tugging her confused companion along. “Shut up and follow me!” 

Together, the two fled the ballroom and sprinted down an empty hallway, a pair of expensive heels and leather boots tumbling against stone floors. 

Chiara could practically feel the confusion radiating from her partner, but she didn't dare stop, tugging her along further into the house with only a glance tossed over her shoulder every now and then.

A quick yank of her hand dragged the woman with her until the two were hidden away deep within the Vargas estate, safe behind the corner of an isolated hall. The music couldn’t reach them here, leaving the pair in a new calm, shrouded in the light of a few scattered torches as they struggled to catch their breath. 

Eventually, once their quiet gasps died down and left the two in silence, Chiara jumped when a sudden burst of laughter erupted from the woman by her side. 

“What the hell is so funny?” she snapped, only to receive breathless giggles in return. 

“Nothing!” That statement was immediately made much less credible by the way it was delivered with a hiccup between the syllables. “I just didn’t expect that!” 

Chiara didn’t know what it was, but somehow, the situation seemed much more amusing to her when the woman tossed her head back and beamed with her laughter. Against her will, Chiara felt a small smile creep up on her face, which didn’t go unnoticed. 

“See?” A gloved hand pointed shakily at her face. “You think it’s funny too!” 

“Shut up!” The grin kept growing and Chiara covered her face with her hands when it refused to stop. “This is all your fault!” 

“My fault? But I’m the responsible one!” 

That broke Chiara, who burst into her own harsh laughter and wrapped her hands around her own waist. In a chain reaction, the woman nearly started crying with the force of her giggles, the two hopelessly spiraling into a cycle of inescapable delight. Whenever they managed to catch their breath for a second, one made the mistake of glancing at the other and dissolved into another round of gut-wrenching laughter. 

It took a long while before they could calm themselves down, occasional giggles and chuckles escaping them as their chests heaved with exertion. Chiara muffled herself with her hand while her partner wiped tears from her eyes, finally settling down in the calm of the night. 

It had been a while since she allowed herself to laugh like that and Chiara was once again grateful for the casual air that the woman seemed to carry around with her. Their voices faded away, leaving behind a contemplative pause warm with the last remnants of their amusement. When Chiara was finally stable enough to glance over to her side, she was met with a gloved hand held out in front of her. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, eyeing the woman with barely hidden confusion when she received a bright grin in response.

“I thought it was rude to run in the middle of a dance,” her partner replied cheerfully. “So I figured I should make it up to you now!” 

“You know that _I_ was the one who started running, right?” 

“Doesn’t matter!” 

Chiara could only stare at her, taking in the absurd logic presented with eager confidence before she sighed and took her hand. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

Quiet laughter answered her as a gentle arm came to settle itself around her waist. 

“I know.”

Without music to guide them or a crowd to watch out for, Chiara was drawn into another waltz, something slow and tender in a way that made her heart race. There was no formality between them, but a gentle sway that followed their careful movements, relaxed and set free in the hall. 

Chiara had seen the woman in front of her laugh and bound around like an eager puppy in the time that she had known her, but all of that energy seemed to simmer down with this moment into something warm that radiated out of her touch. There was only the soft glow of the torches and the quiet moonlight that peered through the windows to illuminate their dance, but Chiara felt as if she was seeing her partner clearer than she ever had before. 

The woman in front of her was ditzy, more than a little stupid, and had completely proven herself to be a hopeless romantic within the first five minutes that Chiara knew her. 

But there was still the overwhelming compassion that seemed to flow from her as naturally as the air around them, a quiet understanding that was careful to peek out when it was needed and above all, an eagerness to enjoy the life around her with everybody she could enjoy it with. 

She was an absolute mess of a woman and Chiara wouldn't have had her any other way.

There was no more conversation between them, no need for one to exist. But as Chiara studied the kind face in front of her, there was a question that whispered for itself to be known in her ear until she felt no choice but to murmur it in hopes of an answer.

“You know, you never told me your name.” 

A small grin pulled the corner of her partner’s lips up. “I believe according to you, that’s none of your business.” 

Chiara huffed, a scowl with no heat behind it appearing on her face. However, what she wanted to say next was interrupted by a woman abruptly turning the corner. 

“There you are!” Elizabeta brushed her hands off as she made her way forward. “Where have you been? Sanem and your mother have been asking for you!” 

Both Chiara and the woman jumped apart, what was visible of their cheeks turning bright red. Elizabeta wasn’t blind to this development, her urgent pull loosening with a teasing grin as she eyed Chiara’s partner. “So this is who you’re choosing to enjoy your night with, hmm?”

“Shut up!” 

Chiara felt her face flush even more when the woman started laughing next to her, seemingly enjoying the taunt. “I didn’t know I would be this special.” 

“Because you’re not!” 

Elizabeta and the woman saw right through her harsh words, much to Chiara’s dismay, both smiling brightly as she scowled. 

“As fun as this is, your mother is still waiting,” Elizabeta sighed, although her grin returned as she eyed the stranger. “Although, I do look forward to seeing you around again.”

At that, the woman smirked down at Chiara. “Only if she’ll invite me.” 

“You’re both terrible!” Chiara snapped, giving her partner a shove for good measure as she walked off. Before she left, she turned her head to catch emerald green eyes with her own one last time, stalking down the hall as her scarlet skirt trailed after her. 

Elizabeta turned to her partner with an apologetic grin, clapping a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I do wish you two could have a little more time together, but the poor girl has her mother calling for her." 

"Oh no, I understand!" The woman replied cheerfully. "I'll look forward to seeing her again!" 

"Wonderful!" Elizabeta squeezed her shoulder with a laugh. "I'll have Chiara tell me when she wants you back over here!" 

The grin slipped off of the woman's face. 

"Who?" 

Elizabeta blinked once, staring at the woman's unhidden expression of shock before she laughed. 

“Of course she didn't tell you, although I'm surprised you couldn't figure it out on your own! That’s the oldest daughter of the house!” Elizabeta shook her head as she calmed herself back down before she started to walk away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Elizabeta left to hurry after Chiara while Isabella was left standing alone in the hallway, heart twisting in her chest as she watched the form of her family’s rival vanish with the memory of sharp caramel eyes lingering in her mind. 

~~

Chiara wasn’t sure how she felt as the party dwindled down, her mother sending guests off with hearty farewells as the ballroom slowly emptied. Elizabeta was busy cleaning up the mess left behind, tossing and snatching things from passing servants to hurry the work along. Anneliese paced around the room, face unusually flushed as she barked at anyone in her way. 

And standing by her side chattering endlessly about her night was Marzia. 

“-she was so shy, but she’s really good at dancing! I even got her to smile a few times, so I think she had fun too!” 

Chiara nodded along, eyes lazily following after the guests who were leaving. “I’m sure.” 

That reply was enough to fuel Marzia, who started up another tirade about how Monika was such a good dance partner and that really, she should go to parties more often because it’s a shame she never lets that skill shine. 

Chiara barely paid attention to her, thoughts clouded with dark chestnut hair and a warm smile over tanned skin. She sighed at the memory of a gentle hand on her waist, guiding her into an airless waltz as she allowed her lips to twitch up for a brief moment. 

Her gaze traveled around the room, but when she looked back to the entrance, Chiara gasped when she saw a familiar azure mask in the crowd, ready to leave the ball behind and disappear into the dark streets of Verona. 

In the flash of an eye, Chiara slapped Marzia’s arm to get her to stop talking and pay attention. “Listen, do you see the lady with the blue vest?” 

“Hmm? What happened?” Marzia’s eyes were wide with confusion, head swiveling around from side to side to try and piece together what she missed. 

Chiara smacked her again and hissed. “ _Stupida_! Do you see the damn woman or not?” 

Marzia squinted at the crowd and pointed somewhere in the woman’s direction. “The one with the flowers?” 

“Yes!” Chiara kept her eyes fixated on the woman’s back as she turned to leave. “Go over there and ask what her name is!” 

“Huh? Why would I do that?”

“It doesn’t matter! Just do it!” Chiara was about ready to strangle her sister if she didn’t start moving and catch the woman before she left. 

Marzia’s squint carried over to Chiara before her auburn eyes blew wide with shock. _“Do you like her?!”_

“Shut up!” Chiara smacked a hand over Marzia’s mouth to keep her from screaming any louder. “Just stop asking questions and ask her already!” 

Marzia gave a muffled shriek behind Chiara’s palm, hands flapping excitedly as she bounced in place. 

Chiara just shoved her as hard as she could to get her to start moving. “Hurry up and get her name! She better not leave before you ask!” 

“I will!” 

Marzia was off like a shot, speeding directly for the woman and nearly toppling her over when she crashed into her back. Chiara was about one step away from killing her sister right then and there when she realized that the woman didn’t seem offended, merely laughing and matching Marzia’s energy as they chatted. 

Marzia’s hands swung around the air, gesturing to just about everything in the room as the woman responded in a similar, but not nearly as chaotic fashion. Before long, they were waving at each other and Marzia was back in front of Chiara with a huge smile on her face. 

“She’s really nice! She said that she had a good time and that her friends had lots of fun too, so they might come back again if we have another ball!” Marzia rambled eagerly. “Wouldn’t that be great if they could come again? Oh, maybe we could all meet up together someday!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t care! What the hell was her name?” Chiara snapped back, stopping Marzia before she could go on about something else. 

“Ah, that’s right!” Marzia’s grin widened. “She said her name was Isabella!” 

As soon as that name slipped from Marzia’s mouth, her eyes widened and her hand came up to cover her mouth when she realized what she had said. 

The two froze in place, both trapped in shock as the world seemed to hold its breath for a second, the weight of that name crashing down on the sisters. 

Nothing she could have done compared to the way Chiara’s face dropped, pale as the moon as she stared at Marzia. No words left her, but Marzia could see the telltale gleam of tears threatening to burst well up in her dark brown eyes, the small flicker of hope quickly extinguished without a chance of recovering. 

“Oh no.” Marzia reached out for Chiara’s hand only to have it slapped away harshly enough to sting. “Chiara-” 

But her sister was already gone, turning her back to rush down the hall to her room, tears finally falling as she desperately wiped them away with the back of her glove. 

Marzia watched in despair as Chiara vanished, unable to think of anything to say to comfort her. 

What could she say when her beloved sister was falling from one doomed love into another?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was a little late. editing turned out to be really hard for this scene specifically and i have no idea why? i tried to patch it up but it's still a little choppy, so sorry again for this one!


	17. A Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

“Did you see the look on Annie’s face when I tried to dip her?” Julchen hopped up onto an abandoned stack of boxes that lined the side of the street, balancing her way over them as she cackled. “I thought she was going to slam my head into the wall for that one!” 

“She would have been right to,” Monika replied with unhidden disapproval, walking next to her sister on the ground. “I know I would have if you pulled a stunt like that on me.” 

“You already do that!” 

The moon was high in the sky, washing the city in a pale stretch of light just bright enough to illuminate the street ahead of them. A few torches lit every so often welcomed them back, the two filled with wine and the lingering traces of excitement from the ball as they joked with each other in the merry atmosphere. 

Despite their long walk, they were still making their way back parallel to the walls of the Vargas estate, Julchen having circled them around after claiming to know a shortcut and promptly being cuffed on the back of her head by Monika when they ended up back in front of the door. 

But a few paces back, Isabella trailed behind them, eyes downcast as she kicked her boots along the few loose pebbles in her way. Her thumbs were tucked in her belt, lost in her own thoughts while the Beilschmidt sisters ambled along ahead of her. 

She didn’t notice the concerned look the two exchanged before Julchen wheeled around to face her, walking backwards with her arms extended to keep herself balanced. “Hey, Isa! Did you get to dance with whoever it was back there? Don’t tell me I got that close to Annie for nothing!” 

Isabella nodded mutely, still shuffling her feet without ever looking up. 

“Did you find out who it was?” Monika tried, her voice hushed to work in a gentle tone to her words. 

Isabella nodded again. 

“Well, don’t leave us hanging!” Julchen hopped down and jogged back over to Isabella to swing an arm around her shoulder. “Who was it? Which poor sucker caught your eye now?” 

Isabella’s hand limply waved to the wall of the Vargas estate they were walking along. 

“That explains literally nothing.” Julchen groaned and tossed her head against Isabella’s arm dramatically. “I can’t believe you’re just gonna leave us in the dark after everything we did for you!” 

Monika however, was contemplative, turning her narrowed eyes from Isabella to the direction she waved in back and forth until her answer clicked and her face paled. 

“Isabella,” Monika started urgently, “do you mean you met that person in there, or are they in there _right now_?” 

Isabella finally lifted her head and the crestfallen look on her face answered Monika’s question for her. 

“ _Isabella!_ ” 

Julchen jumped at Monika’s shout, nearly tripping over her own boots as Monika stalked back to them and threw her arms up. 

“What were you _thinking_?” Monika paced frantically in front of them, eyes wide with panic as her volume jumped again. “I knew coming here was a mistake! What the hell are you going to do?”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Julchen held a hand out in front of Monika’s chest to stop her from moving. “You’re going to have to explain what happened, but like three steps slower.” 

Monika forced herself to take a deep breath and exhaled roughly, pinching her eyes shut with her index finger and thumb before she faced Isabella. “What was their name?” she asked quietly, panic already building itself back up in her face as she spoke.

Isabella cast one last glance to the wall of the Vargas estate before she mumbled her answer. 

“Chiara.” 

Julchen’s jaw dropped. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Exactly!” Monika resumed her frenzied pacing. “I don’t know why I didn’t stop you two from coming. This was a te-”

“ _Oh my god!_ ” 

Julchen’s shriek cut off Monika’s spiraling rant, spinning Isabella around to face her with an beaming grin on her face. “Chiara? Like Chiara Vargas? Marzia’s sister, Chiara?” 

Isabella head bobbed listlessly in confirmation, not looking nearly as invested as the Beilschmidt sisters in front of her. 

Julchen boomed out her laughter, spinning Isabella around in a tight hug as she screeched with joy. “Look at you go! You just went straight for the prize, huh?” She finally stopped their momentum to ruffle up Isabella’s hair, causing even more of her wavy locks to fall out of her messy bun. “Couldn’t have chosen better for you myself! What a catch!” 

“What?” Isabella asked quietly, finally speaking up in hushed confusion. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?’ Julchen crowed back, hopping on the balls of her feet enthusiastically. “This is gonna be a great story to tell your kids! Their mothers were from the two families with the biggest grudge in Verona? Come on, it’s perfect!” 

“No, it’s not perfect!” Monika finally stepped in, a snarl on her face as she shoved Julchen away from Isabella. “Don’t you understand what this means? If any of the Vargas’ hear about this, _she’ll_ be the one they come after!” 

“They’ll find out if we let them find out!” Julchen argued back, an equally vicious scowl on her face. “You’ve managed to cover up your secret little lover. Why can’t Isa do the same?”

“Because their _lives_ are at stake here!” Monika’s hands came up to tear at her short hair, desperately tugging at the pale blonde strands. “Isabella, you know how dangerous this is, right?” 

Isabella pursued her lips and frowned, fingers tapping rhythmically against her leather belt in deep thought. “Wouldn’t Octavia try to have you killed if she found out you were seeing Marzia?” she finally asked, words slowly leaving her lips as she mulled over the possible answers.

“That’s not-”

“Wouldn’t she?” 

Monika was silent, a tense quiet falling over the trio until she let out a weary sigh. “Yes. She would.” 

A tiny, but still present smile crept up on Isabella’s lips, a flicker of hope flashing through her jade eyes. “Then I don’t see why I shouldn’t go after her.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Julchen was back between the two to capture them both in a stranglehold of a hug. “Why should you get to have all the fun, Monika? Leave some for the rest of us!” 

Isabella let out a quiet chuckle, the fiery hope in her chest slowly kindling her strength until she was laughing as loud as her voice could handle, filled with a new life. 

“Yes. Yes!” 

She wrapped her arms around Julchen as tightly as she could, overflowing with the wild energy that burst from her heart. “We’ll all get a chance to love! All of us!” 

“That’s right!” Julchen rocked the two of them, swaying violently even though neither of the two in her arms seemed to care. “If we die, we die! But we might as well live a damn good life before we get there!” 

“You're both idiots,” Monika sighed, although the happy flush on her face was quick to betray how amused she truly was. 

Isabella wasn't blind to the change either, reaching over to ruffle Monika’s hair with her fist and laughing when the girl tried to duck away with a silly grin on her face. “Don't leave yourself out! You can’t get out of this now!” 

“Exactly!” Julchen seemed to be vibrating with joy, squeezing Monika and Isabella even closer.

The trio burst into laughter, filled to the brim with youthful hope and freed from the burden of fighting against their futures, embracing them whole-heartedly instead as they rushed forward to tumble into the brand new explosion of love within them without a care in the world to stop them. 

They stumbled down the street together, shoving each other and laughing in the playful light of the moon. In fact, the three were so caught up in their games that they nearly missed the sound of rushing footsteps until Julchen lifted her head and let a wicked grin loose. 

“Oh, Monika! Your lover girl is here to sweep you off your feet!”

Marzia’s face burned bright red at her jest, flushing even more when Monika turned around and was immediately forced to do a double take. Marzia was changed out of her ballgown, leaving the heavy skirts behind in favor of a lighter cream yellow nightgown. She never was one to care much about things like public indecency, but Monika certainly did and it showed on her face when she looked her over.

“Marzia?” the younger German stammered out. “What are you doing here?” 

Marzia laughed when Monika’s face quickly turned as red as her own when she remembered the compromising situation she was currently in. “I wanted to come and see you! I didn’t know if you would still be here, but I guess I just got lucky tonight!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you did!” 

“Shut up Julchen!” Monika snapped, scowling at her sister before she turned back to Marzia with a sheepish look on her face. “I’m sorry about that, but shouldn’t you be at home right now?” 

“Yeah, but Anna left to go walk around town and calm down, so I wanted to go out too!” Marzia chirped, eagerly rocking back and forth on her feet as her hands waved in the air to illustrate her story. “I know it’s late and you’re probably tired, but won’t you go on a walk with me, Monika?” 

“Of course she will!” Isabella replied cheerfully before Monika could get a word out, reaching over to yank the girl and sling her in Marzia’s direction. 

“Isabella!” Monika whipped around to glare at her friend before turning back to Marzia, who was slowly losing her smile. Desperate to save the situation, Monika cleared her throat awkwardly. “I mean, it does get dangerous at night. Are you sure you don’t want to go back?” 

“Nope!” The smile was back in full force and directed right at Monika. “I know you’ll protect me!” 

Just like that, Monika was reverted to a state of hopeless stutters with her cheeks burning bright enough to outshine the sun. 

Isabella and Julchen lost it behind her, leaning on each other as they heaved for breath at her blushing face. 

“Yeah, put those muscles to good use Monika!” 

“ _Shut up!_ ” 

Marzia giggled at their taunts before she suddenly gasped, leaving Monika to race up to the duo behind her with her gaze fixated on a certain woman.

“Wait, you’re Isabella, right?” 

Isabella blinked once before recognition dawned in her eyes and her jaw dropped. “Marzia? You asked for my name?” 

Marzia nodded as Monika slapped her hands over her face and yelled something along the lines of, “Why the hell did you give her your _name_ at the _Vargas’_ party?” off to the side. 

“That’s me!” Marzia’s smile slowly fell, leaving behind a hesitant frown filled with concern as her golden brown eyes. “You were with Chiara at the ball, weren’t you?” 

Isabella nodded, her own energy cooling down to match Marzia’s serious tone. “I was. Did something happen?” 

Marzia shook her head. “No, nothing happened! It’s just that she’s a little bit of a tight spot right now.” Her frown deepened as she spoke, her worries becoming clear in her voice. “I have to ask a favor from you.”

Her face shifted to plead with Isabella, reaching out to grab the Spaniard’s hands with a hint of desperation. “Can you please talk to her tonight? I know you’re not supposed to see each other, but I don’t know who else to ask! She doesn’t want to talk about it and I don’t know how to help her anymore, but she’s in pain and it hurts me too and I don’t know what else to do!”

Isabella didn't even think before she was hushing the girl, squeezing her hands back with a gentle grip to calm her down. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” she cooed, “I’d be more than happy to visit her, but, uh, I don’t think I’ll be able to get back into your home until the next ball comes around.”

“You don’t have to wait!” Marzia let go to point over to the wall leading to the estate. “If you can climb that, then it’ll take you straight to the edge of the garden! She’ll probably be on the balcony, so if you just stay really quiet, I’m sure you can get her attention!” 

“Wait, really?” Isabella’s head whipped around to gawk at the new gate to Chiara waiting right in front of her. 

“Hold on,” Monika interrupted before Isabella could run off to scramble over the wall. “Let’s figure out when we’re meeting again before we separate.”

“Just be back here in an hour or something like that!” Julchen waved her off with a casual hand. “I’ll wait over here in case Isa falls and needs me to come rescue her!” 

“Anna might come back though,” Marzia piped up. “I don’t think you can hide in time around here if she shows up.” 

“Who says I’m gonna hide?” Julchen’s grin turned into something wicked as a mischievous glint flashed through her eyes. “I’ll just come up with another _distraction_.” 

Monika groaned while Marzia’s eyes widened as something clicked in her head. 

"You were the one dancing with Anna!” 

“Of course I was!” Julchen exclaimed, sweeping her arms up to gesture grandly to herself. “Who else has the power to wrestle Annie on a dance floor?!” 

It wasn't long before Marzia burst into laughter, hands wrapped as tight as she could get them around her waist as she doubled over.

Monika, however, was not nearly as amused. 

“Can we hurry this up?” 

Julchen only cackled at the exasperated look on Monika's face, a stark contrast to the cheerful smile Marzia had on next to her.

“Aww, look at that! Someone’s eager, huh Isa?”

Julchen's head swiveled up when she received no response.

“Isa?” 

“Oh my god.”

Monika pointed up at the wall with an unhidden disbelief when a pair of black leather boots fumbled over the edge of the old stone foundation and vanished. “When did she even leave?"

“Doesn’t matter now!” Julchen was quick to recover as she pushed the two of them off down the street with a bright grin. “Hurry up and scram! Show your little Marzia what those muscles can do!” 

“ _Julchen!"_

Monika’s yell faded off into the distance as she was dragged down the road by an eager Marzia, who was already taking off at a pace faster than Monika could keep up with. 

Julchen only laughed until their footsteps gradually disappeared, leaving her alone behind the other side of the wall as the trio separated to go off on their own adventures for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the balcony scene is next and boy do i have some...thoughts


	18. The Balcony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy) 
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Isabella heaved herself over the stone wall, swinging her legs over the edge and catching her breath when she could lay over the top for a brief moment. Once she recovered, she carefully lowered her body down and let go, dropping onto the dirt below. With a relieved sigh, Isabella brushed herself off and glanced around the Vargas’ garden. 

As Marzia promised, Isabella found herself tucked away in the corner of the garden, only one path leading down off to her right where she could see the stone walkway open up into a large square closer to the center of the estate. Standing proudly next to her was an old oak tree, heavy branches dipping low to keep her cloaked from view alongside the rows of olive green cherry laurel bushes that grew to her waist. At her feet, Isabella could see a wild plethora of flowers from royal purple violets to pure white lilies stretching across the length of the garden, petals bending with the wind in a gentle sway. 

Isabella crept to hide behind the tree, keeping her back to the wall and carefully parting the bushes until she was safe behind her cover. Once she took a deep breath and adjusted her mask, Isabella peered out from the trunk of the oak tree to look up for the balcony Marzia mentioned. 

And saw an angel instead. 

Chiara Vargas stood on the edge of the balcony, dressed in a pale white nightgown that fluttered at her knees with the gentle wind. Dark russet hair fell in waves around her tanned shoulders, freed from the ribbon that kept it from covering her face. Her eyes were closed, hands draped over the stone rail as she leaned over to catch the breeze. 

When she opened her eyes, Isabella was struck by the piercing caramel gaze that took on a silvery haze in the moonlight, giving her such an otherwordly presence that Isabella had to wonder if she was just imagining this woman standing over her. 

Her figure was framed by the curtain of creeping rose vines that grew over either side of the balcony as the moon cast a faint spotlight onto a stage only Isabella could see. Chiara formed a portrait of her own with nothing but the world around her, creating beauty out of nothingness. Isabella wished that she could capture that image for herself, if only as a reminder that a woman like Chiara existed at all.

Entranced, Isabella slowly crept out from behind the oak tree, unthinking as she took a slow step forward. Once she emerged completely and left the shadows of the branches to join her in the moonlight, Chiara’s eyes turned to her and widened. 

Neither of them could speak, each a dream to the other, a figure of fantasy never to live. Their stare never broke from one another, hesitant to break the spell that lingered between them. Now, hidden in the night, all they could do was hold their breath and let themselves entertain this selfish reverie. 

Isabella took a careful step forward and the illusion shattered. 

“What are you doing here?!” Chiara hissed, whipping her head to watch for any guards along the lone path to her corner of the garden. 

“I wanted to see you again.” Isabella’s voice was quiet, but it still held strong against the silence of the night. 

Isabella’s heart stopped when Chiara’s eyes burned with pure rage at her words. “You wanted to see me? _You wanted to see me?_ ” 

In the blink of an eye, the tranquil scene Isabella had only observed moments ago was burned into a crisp by the furious woman above her, grip tightening dangerously on the railing. 

“What kind of a sick joke is this?” she snapped, Isabella stumbling back at the venom in her voice. “You _lied_ to me and tried to get me to follow you around like a dog! And now, now, you come back and try to tell me you just want to _see me_? How stupid do you think I am?” 

“I don-I don’t understand,” Isabella stammered out, eyes wide with shock. 

That sentence only seemed to fuel Chiara’s wrath, powerful enough to smite Isabella where she stood. 

_“I know who you are, you bastard!”_

Isabella couldn't breathe, suffocating in the air around her when she saw the betrayal in Chiara’s face. 

“Was this some kind of game for you? Were you going to go back to your friends and laugh about how you managed to get into my house and string me along like a toy?” 

Isabella could only gape at her before she rushed to explain herself hopelessly. “No! No, I-” 

“Shut up!” 

Isabella’s mouth snapped shut and the summer night seemed to get so much colder. 

“Get the hell out of here!” Chiara pointed out from her balcony with a violent swing of her arm. “You’re dead if I see you again!” 

Isabella wanted to explain herself, to beg for forgiveness and stay put until Chiara understood, but all she felt was guilt eating up the blooming admiration in her chest. That small hope she had dared to nurture was crushed under the weight of her mistake and Isabella could do nothing to save it.

Her head fell to stare at the ground, unable to meet Chiara’s eyes any longer. “I’m sorry.” 

Isabella heard no response, but she didn’t dare to assume that it meant she was being accepted. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just didn’t think that you were a Vargas and I thought you could stay longer so I could tell you.” Isabella could feel the rush of shame heating her face, forcing her eyes to water. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I swear.”

Silence. 

Isabella bowed her head and prayed the shadows would hide the stray tears that ran down her cheeks as she turned around to climb back over the wall. But when she started to walk away, she heard a quiet voice behind her. 

“Aren’t you mad at me?” 

Isabella paused and looked over her shoulder. She took the silence to mean that Chiara wouldn’t be repeating herself and frowned with confusion. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Chiara’s fury seemed to be quenched, her head ducked to hide her expression. 

“I lied to you too, _idiota_ ,” she mumbled. “I didn’t tell you who I was.”

She lifted her head and Isabella was shocked to see the regret written as clear as day on her face. 

The memory of harsh laughter and a warm dance came to Isabella's head, and she realized that she already knew her answer.

“I could never be mad at you.” 

Isabella's breath caught in her chest when she saw Chiara’s eyes shine with tears that threatened to fall, messily wiped away by the palm of her hand. 

“Damn bastard.” 

A barely hidden sob escaped her mouth. 

Isabella was back under the balcony in a flash, whispering desperate reassurances as Chiara clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle herself. Isabella reached a hand up in a futile effort to reach her, fingers not even close to brushing the bottom of the balcony no matter how hard she strained. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Isabella wished the edge was just a little lower so she could climb up and wipe those tears away herself. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

 _"Stupida_ ,” came the hiccuped reply. “It’s not even your fault.”

“It doesn't matter.”

Isabella felt only relief when Chiara’s tears finally seemed to slow down. Her eyes were still red and the occasional hiccuping gasp would leave her, but she seemed to be regaining her composure. 

Isabella thought she still looked beautiful. 

There was a hesitant silence, filled with unspoken worries and fears that they dared not vocalize in the fleeting dread that to say them now would only make them a reality. They existed only now in the pale moonlight, never to meet in the all-revealing light of the day. 

When Chiara finally spoke, her voice was hushed, filled with a sorrowful regret that struck Isabella with a sharp pang of guilt.

"It's not fair." 

"I know it's not." Isabella was desperate to take away the bitter acceptance that tinged those words, to offer some kind of comfort. "But it won't be like this forever." 

A confused frown twisted at Chiara's lips. 

"What?" 

Isabella let the idle daydreams that she loved so dearly to be set free with that question, eager to please Chiara however she could. 

"It won't have to be like this forever. I bet things will change later on, and we'll get to do whatever we want." 

Isabella's hands floated through the air, drawing out the scene she could see so clearly in her head. 

"I'll come back someday when we can do anything, like walk around town together. There's lots of little alleyways that I like to go down and they're really fun to explore! I get lost sometimes, but that's ok because I'll still have you and you'll figure out where we are!" 

Chiara leaned forward ever so slightly, barely noticeable to Isabella, who was still lost in her own world. 

"Oh, or we could go visit some of the other cities! I don't remember a lot before we moved to Verona, but I think it'll just make it more fun. I heard there was a really pretty town by the coast and I always wanted to go and see it, so you can come with me too! Maybe I could paint while I'm there- _oh!_ " 

Isabella's arms stretched themselves out as she rambled on, completely wrapped up in the eager pictures she was painting. 

"We could paint together! I'm not really that good at it, but I'm sure we could do something if we tried! There's always so many pretty things to try and paint, like the sunset, or the streets at night, or the flowers when they're blooming!" 

The last of Isabella's idle daydreams slowly wisped away, leaving behind a thoughtful haze that she whole-heartedly embraced as the burst of energy died down into a warm simmer of comfort.

"We just have to wait a little longer." 

A contemplative silence filled the air, packed with fanciful dreams and hopeful musings that the two allowed themselves to take in. Chiara's hands came to rest on the edge of the balcony, gaze fixated on Isabella. 

"Do you really think so?" 

Her voice was quiet, not daring to raise and put confidence in those fantasies just yet. 

"Of course I do." Isabella smiled up at Chiara with enough hope for the both of them. "Why wouldn't I?" 

"Because you're a damn Carriedo." 

A scowl crossed over Chiara's face, but Isabella knew that her frustration wasn't aimed at her. 

"If you were anybody else, then we could just about whatever the hell we want. But you're not. And I can't fix that." 

Isabella mulled over her words for a moment before she met Chiara’s worried eyes with a smile. “My name doesn’t change who I am though, no?”

When Chiara hesitantly nodded, Isabella pressed forward. “Then it doesn’t matter what I’m called, because in the end, I’ll still be me. And I'll be here until I can treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

She met Chiara’s eyes with the kind of confidence that burst from adoration and let that trust guide her next words.

“Carriedo or not, I would never leave you if you needed me.” 

Chiara’s grip tightened on the railing. 

“Do you promise?” 

Her voice was tight with desperation, a long-restrained yearning lacing her question. 

“I promise.”

Isabella could feel Chiara’s gaze studying her, evaluating the validity of her words before she left the edge of the balcony to make her way to the side, reaching out to pluck a rose off of the creeping vines. 

As she walked, she snapped off the spikes on what remained of the stem, allowing them to litter the floor of the balcony before she made her way back over to the center. 

Chiara leaned over the edge, one hand twirling the rose in her hand for a second as she looked over the velvet petals before she glanced down at Isabella and allowed the flower to fall from her fingertips. 

Isabella reached out to catch it, the rose landing safely in her cupped palms as she gasped at Chiara, staring at her as if she had granted her a gift sent from heaven. 

“I’ll kill you myself if you're lying.” 

Isabella looked between the rose in her hands and its sender before she beamed so widely she could feel her cheeks ache. 

“I don’t doubt it.” 

Isabella carefully reached up to tuck the stem of the rose in her messy bun, gently adjusting the petals so they were nestled comfortably against her head. With Chiara’s gift displayed proudly in her hair and Chiara herself looking over the new addition with a faint pink on her cheeks, Isabella felt the warm adoration burst into a wave of tender affection she could barely contain. 

Slowly, emerging quietly from the shadow of despair, hope crept out from their hearts in a way that they dared not grow, although neither could stop that hope from fueling itself anyways. The sorrow from before was quickly melting away with the summer air and Isabella was never so glad to see such a change before.

“Why the hell are you still wearing your mask?” A new softness trailed through Chiara's voice, finally allowed to creep out in the new light of trust that was kept hidden before. “The ball’s over, _idiota_.”

Isabella’s hand briefly fluttered over her own face, feeling the navy blue mask still resting over her skin. She chuckled quietly and glanced up with amusement. “Yes, yes, you’re right.”

Deft fingers reached behind her head to untie the string that kept her mask in place, quickly catching it before it fell to wrap the string around her belt before she looked back up at Chiara with a smile. 

“It seems like I’ve been forgetting all of my manners today.”

Nothing could ever compare to the way Chiara’s eyes widened, rich hazel gaze filled with unspoken admiration as a heavy blush painted her face, lips slightly parted as she stared without a word. 

Isabella felt like the most beautiful person in the world under that gaze and she prayed that Chiara felt the same when she looked at her. 

“Is this better?” Isabella asked, a slight tease to her words that she couldn’t quite keep out. 

Chiara’s awestruck look quickly turned into a glare, arms crossed to huff at Isabella. “No. You should’ve kept it on.” 

Isabella laughed lightly, looking back at Chiara with an affectionate smile.“I guess I’m not as lucky as you then. You look perfect without one.” 

Chiara’s shoulder tensed as her face burst into a bright crimson. “Shut up."

“But it’s true!” Now that Isabella started, she found her mouth running off ahead of her head, all of her star-struck thoughts escaping into the night for Chiara to hear. “I don’t know what I would have done with myself if you didn’t have one when we met. I was already nervous when I saw you, but right now,” 

Isabella met Chiara’s eyes with a hopeless amount of care that she desperately prayed she could translate properly.

“You look beautiful, and I don’t know what to say.”

“Then shut up,” Chiara instructed, although her voice was weak, muffled when she dropped her face to hide in the palms of her hands. 

“I don’t think I can,” Isabella admitted, hands coming up to illustrate her words. “I wasn’t sure if you were real when I climbed over the wall because you just looked like something out of a dream.” Her arms swept over the balcony in a grand gesture. “I was afraid I would wake up and you would be gone before I could talk to you, so I have to thank you for this.”

Her hands traveled back to Chiara’s gift tucked in her hair with a fond smile. 

“Because now, I have something to remember that you were really here.” 

Isabella was beaming with delight to see Chiara’s face flush, to know that her words had finally shown Chiara what she was desperate to convey. She was overflowing with so much warmth that she didn’t know what to do, sinking into the pounding of her heart within her chest and drowning in the hesitant tenderness sent from her angel above.

Chiara’s eyes finally peeked out from behind her fingers, still a healthy pink as she spoke. “You just have to be a damn romantic, don’t you?”

Isabella laughed freely. “It wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t!” 

Chiara’s lips quirked up in a faint smile, but before she could speak, Julchen’s loud exclamation from the other side of the wall forced both of their mouths to snap shut, eyes wide with panic before they turned to look back at each other. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Isabella said quietly, one hand brushing against the petals of her rose. Slowly, hesitant to leave the paradise she had stumbled into, Isabella walked backwards until her boots hit the wall. 

“Will you come back?” Chiara leaned over the balcony, following Isabella’s path back to the garden wall with her eyes in a way that made Isabella even more desperate to stay for just a moment longer.

Instead, she smiled at Chiara as warmly as she could. 

“I’ll try to, but if I can’t, I’ll see you again somehow.” 

Chiara hesitated before she asked one final question. 

“Is that another promise?” 

Emerald green eyes flashed with affection, lips curving softly to give her gentle response.

“Of course.” 

With that, Isabella jumped up to grab onto the edge of the wall, red rose vanishing into the leafy branches of the oak tree as she disappeared from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so you're probably thinking: wait this isn't how the balcony scene is supposed to go  
> and you are right. the original very romantic scene just didn't fit chiara's character no matter how i tried to write it, so i ended up changing a lot of it in order to suit her. i still don't think i did it justice, but this is the best attempt i got so far


	19. Metal Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Julchen had to say, while she was glad that her friends were off being idiots in the night, it was getting pretty boring standing around with nothing to do. The quiet of the late hour stifled any hopes of having fun, leaving her pacing back and forth endlessly. 

She couldn’t hear Isabella shrieking from the other side of the wall, so she could only assume that things were going well, even though a small part of her hoped something would go wrong so she could finally kill off her boredom. 

Julchen settled for attempting to balance her sword on her fingertips, although that idea was quickly abandoned when she tried to catch it and nearly sliced her palm open on the blade.

With nothing else to do, Julchen leaned against the garden wall and huffed.

“And what are you doing back here?” 

Julchen’s head whipped back up at the familiar voice, an eager grin bursting onto her face when she saw Anneliese standing a few paces down the street, glaring at her with her hands clasped behind her back.

She was still dressed in her outfit from the ball, but her mask was left behind in favor of her sword. It made Julchen distinctly aware of her own silver mask resting against the bridge of her nose, but she waved the observation aside in favor of chasing her new entertainment for the night.

“Well, it’s a lovely night for a walk, isn’t it Annie?” she hummed, pushing herself off of the wall to stroll over to the middle of the street. “Beautiful weather and all that. Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to notice stuff like that?” 

“I have,” came the stifled response. “What I want to know is why _you’re_ noticing it now.

Julchen let out an offended gasp, one hand coming to clutch at her chest. “Annie! You’re breaking my heart here!” Her look of mock offense slipped into a wild smirk. “Can’t I see my favorite rival without being shot down?” 

Anneliese let out an irritated sigh, not seeming nearly as amused by the situation as Julchen was. “I don’t care. Just tell me what you’re doing here.” 

Julchen couldn’t pass up a chance like this. 

“Annie, Annie, my wonderful, dear, sweet Annie,” she cooed, getting down on one knee to spread her arms out wide. “I’ve come to confess my undying love for you!” 

Anneliese’s eye twitched.

“Is this what you think humor is?”

Julchen tossed her head back as if she had been stabbed, but she couldn't quite keep the grin off of her face.

“Oh, my heart!” she moaned. “I’ll never be the same again! You’ve broken me, Annie!” 

Julchen collapsed onto the ground, a hand coming to drape itself over her forehead as she turned her face away. “My life has been ruined! All of this hard work for nothing!” 

“You’ve already ruined it yourself,” Anneliese snapped. “Now hurry up and get out of here. I’d like to be home before the sun rises.” 

“Well you’re no fun,” Julchen huffed, although she did roll back onto her feet to stand up and brush herself off. She was ready to let Anneliese go, but a flash of pale yellow that Julchen barely caught quickly made her reconsider.

When Julchen looked over Anneliese’s shoulder, she spotted Monika and Marzia dashing around the corner, peering out cautiously side by side. On a whim, Julchen’s gaze flitted over to the top of the wall where sure enough, tucked between the garden wall and the leafy branches of an oak tree, Isabella perched and waited with wide green eyes like some kind of overgrown owl. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

Julchen’s smile turned into something sinister. 

_They owed her so much for this._

“Now if you’ll excuse me.” Anneliese’s harsh voice broke through Julchen’s giddy train of thought as she attempted to brush past her. “I have places I need to be.”

In a flash, Julchen’s sword was drawn and held against Anneliese’s chest, effectively stopping her from going any further. 

“What, and waste a beautiful night like this?” Julchen slowly pushed Anneliese back, the blade coming dangerously close to cutting fabric as Anneliese was forced to follow the path her arm drew. “Fine patron of the arts you are.” 

Anneliese was silent, but her amethyst eyes gleamed with irritation. “Are you challenging me?” 

“Nope!” Julchen allowed her arm to draw a dangerous figure eight in the air. “Can’t you feel the energy tonight? I know you’ve been itching to have at me since our wonderful dance.”

An easy grin sprawled across her pale skin. 

“So how about a little stress relief?” 

Anneliese’s hand twitched for the handle of her sword and Julchen could see her weakening resolve crumble away right before her eyes. “You just have to make everything crude, don’t you?”

Julchen let out a burst of laughter and leveled her blade to point directly at Anneliese. “I don’t know what else you were expecting, princess!” 

Anneliese’s own sword was drawn within a second and Julchen felt the addictive rush of victory flow through her when the guardian of the Vargas family raced forward to strike. 

Julchen was quick to bring her arm up, metal striking together in a burst of sound as their blades clashed together before they separated to meet again. 

The night around them became a hazy background, the two fixated on only their rival as they danced around one another, stepping back and forth with the force of their blows. 

Anneliese kept her traditional style of fighting, harsh steel cutting straight lines when she swung and holding tight angles when she jerked her hand up to block, watching Julchen’s every move with a cold calculation to predict where she would strike next. 

Julchen, however, seemed to let her sword drag her body through the fight, swinging with power and a lack of care that should have left her vulnerable to an attack. It is this fluidity that she utilized though, easily weaving between blows and swaying to defend herself in order to slam down her blade unexpectedly and force Anneliese to bounce on the balls of her feet to avoid being hit. 

Together, the two were evenly matched, an unstoppable force against an immovable object as the metal between them snapped and bit at each other, sparking to life with every impact.

When Julchen looked back behind Anneliese though, she spotted Isabella reach one hesitant arm out before quickly retracting it as their fight turned in her direction, Monika and Marzia silently attempting to step out before darting back to the safety of the corner in a similar fashion. While Anneliese was certainly distracted, she wasn’t blind. 

Julchen grinned and brought her sword down again. 

It seems like she would have to work a little harder. 

Julchen completely abandoned any semblance of being fair, swiping at Anneliese’s cheek and ducking to jab at her legs in a wild flurry of movement that forced the Austrian woman to stumble back. 

“Do you even know how to have a proper fight?” Anneliese snarled, whipping her head to the side to avoid being caught by Julchen’s sudden arc. “Or are you just idiotic enough to have forgotten?” 

“You tell me what part of this is a proper fight!” Julchen laughed, scarlet eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I’m waiting!” 

Julchen waited until Marzia slowly stepped out from behind the wall, meeting Julchen’s eyes and waiting for her to give a quick nod before she darted her way across the street.

Julchen followed her path in their fight, forcing Anneliese to rotate around with quick jabs to her side and broad swings down her body so Marzia would always be behind her back in a quick circle. In the blink of an eye, they were back where they started with Anneliese none the wiser and Marzia gone without a trace.

Julchen could feel the adrenaline pulsing through her body, flowing out of her fingertips and out the end of her sword as it rushed out through her feet with every quick step she took. She was alive and vibrant, ready to take on the night with a bold confidence that shone with each flash of metal under the light of the moon. 

Once she had Anneliese’s back to the wall, she barely looked up at Isabella before she nodded, all of her focus on her opponent as she slammed her sword down against Anneliese’s, keeping them locked in place. 

Julchen faintly heard the sound of light footsteps falling, landing on the ground with a fumble before running off down towards Monika.

She kept her gaze on Anneliese, harsh violet eyes burning into her own from the other side of her blade. They were both panting from exertion, faces flushed from the heat of battle. Julchen slowly leaned closer, metal scraping against metal with a harsh screech until she was close enough to see the depths of those lilac eyes. 

They dared not speak, trapped in the intensity of the silent struggle between them, the underlying hint of danger adding a sharp pang of sweetness as they stared each other down. 

Eventually, Julchen broke into a grin and leaned back, twisting her wrist to untangle their blades. 

“Well who would’ve guessed?” she drawled, giving one last circle with her sword before it was tucked back against her hip. “You know how to have a bit of fun after all.” 

Anneliese said nothing, sword still drawn but eyes wide as she followed Julchen’s lazy path back down the street, boots clicking against the stone in a slow amble. 

A pause stopped her walk for a brief moment before Julchen turned to look over her shoulder with a smirk. She reached up and untied the mask around her face, letting it fall to reveal the full power behind her ruby eyes.

“Here.” The pearly mask shone in the moonlight as it fell in a graceful arc to land at Anneliese’s feet. “A little gift for the princess.” 

Julchen’s playful grin widened when she saw the stunned look on Anneliese’s face. 

“I’ll see you around, Miss Edelstein.” 

And with that, Julchen turned and left, chaotic and uncontrollable as the night around her, blind to the way Anneliese quietly bent over to pick the mask up and tuck it in her pocket before she made her way back to the Vargas estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, the two sides of the gay experience: yearning and homoerotic sword fights


	20. Marianne's Blossoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Friar Lawrence - Marianne Bonnefoy (Fem! France)  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> L'amour de l'adolescence - Puppy love/Young love  
> Oui - Yes  
> Dios mio - My God

Marianne took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, opening a pair of soft lavender eyes to take in the familiar view around her. 

Tucked away behind the old church in the middle of the town was the garden that she had carefully nurtured, gentle lilac orchids and blooming tulips in a vibrant sea of pink and white. Rows of strong herbs and healthy green flora stood proudly against the beauty of the blossoms, a well-cared for mixture of function and decoration. The grass was still dewy with the morning mist, the sun not much more than a fine haze of light that settled itself in the calm of the early hour. 

Marianne leaned down to brush her fingers against the petals of a nearby aster, careful not to disturb the quiet purple petals as her robes shifted with her. She had learned long ago that each little flower, each newborn piece of greenery had a special role and she knew to cherish each one with the respect it deserved. 

It was truly a beautiful morning in Verona and Marianne was glad to be able to enjoy it. 

“Mari! Mari!” 

A bright smile bloomed on Marianne’s face as she turned around and saw the eager faces of a familiar unruly trio tearing through the garden, tumbling over one another in a botched attempt at leaving the rows of flowers at their feet undisturbed.

Isabella was darting toward her with a wide smile, Julchen hot on her heels with a furious pace as Monika struggled to keep them under control. However, her efforts proved to be futile when the two overpowered her and crushed her into the hug they rammed into Marianne with, nearly toppling them all over before Marianne could regain her footing and recover. 

“Well, look at you all!” she cooed, reaching over to brush the flyaways of their hair out of their faces. “Misbehaving as usual, I see.” 

“Of course!” Isabella cheered, bouncing from foot to foot and earning a cuff to the back of her head from a scowling Monika. 

“I am so sorry Sister Marianne,” Monika apologized, yanking Isabella and Julchen back by the collars of their shirts. “We just came to visit and we’ll be _leaving if you can’t behave!_ ” 

The beginning of her polite apology turned into a harsh shout when Isabella and Julchen continued to struggle against her, finally finding a threatening enough incentive to calm down, although their enthusiastic grins never faded. 

Marianne was unperturbed by the sheer frenzy in front of her, easily waving Monika off with a smile as she made her way to rest on the mossy stone steps leading up to the church. “Please, Monika, I’ve dealt with you three for ages,” she said breezily, patting the steps below her. “Now, come, sit down!” 

Obediently, if not with some discourse, the three settled down below her and finally stayed still long enough for her to get a good look at their faces. A light frown replaced her calm smile when she saw the dark circles under their eyes, a certain lethargic undertone to their movements once the energy from their greeting died down. 

“Did you all not sleep last night?” Marianne asked, concern growing when they all gave a nod. “What on earth were you doing?” 

“We crashed the Vargas’ party!” Julchen fell over to sprawl out on the cold stone, grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “It was awesome!” 

“It was, it was!” Isabella beamed as her hands came up to wildly gesture around her. “Oh, Mari, it was amazing!” 

At that, Marianne gave an excited gasp, hand coming to her mouth. “All of you?” 

Another set of nods. 

“Well hurry up and tell me how it went!” Marianne settled herself back down, smoothing out her robes with a quick flick of her wrists. “I can’t believe you made me wait for this long!”

Monika cleared her throat, posture as straight as ever. “It wasn’t tha-” 

“Oh no!” Julchen pointed an accusing finger up from the ground. “ _You_ don’t get to talk after that little stunt you pulled with Marzia!” 

Marianne was fully invested in this story now, eyes wide as she whipped around to face Monika, who immediately turned bright red. “You were with Marzia?” At the stiff nod she received in response, Marianne lit up as bright as the sun above her. “Oh, you’ve grown up so much! I remember when you couldn’t even look at a pretty girl without running off to hide!”

“That was a long time ago!” Monika snapped, although she certainly seemed to be on the defense now. “Why are we even bringing this up?” 

“Because it shows how far you’ve come!” Isabella piped up cheerfully. “Mari, you should have seen the way they danced together! I thought they would both be missing for the night!” 

Marianne had no words to describe the sheer pride she had for the youngest Beilschmidt even as Monika reached over to shove Isabella hard enough to send her toppling down the stairs. 

“Oh, but that’s not all they did!” Julchen leaned her head up to shoot Mari a grin. “Her little Marzia came running up to us after the ball just to see Monika!” 

Marianne let out an excited laugh, clapping her hands together with joy. “Things are finally moving along! There is nothing like watching _l’amour de l'adolescence_ bloom, but it always takes so long to start!”

“Because there’s nothing to start in the first place!” Monika all but yelled. Much to her despair, nobody seemed to believe her, eyeing her with unhidden amusement that caused her shoulders to tense up. “If anything, get on her!”

Julchen’s eyes widened when Marianne turned her eager gaze to her. “Me? What the hell did I do?” 

“Well, you danced with Anna! And you had a lovely conversation with her too!” Isabella reported as she climbed her way back up to rejoin the group. 

“That was a sword fight!” 

“That was flirting!” 

“I have to agree with Isabella,” Marianne added. “You’re always so tense around poor Anna. I'm sure that there has to be something else there.” 

“Wrong!” Julchen sat up in a flash. “She’s the one making it weird for both of us! Not me!” 

Marianne had to coo at that, reaching over to pinch both of the Beilschmidt’s cheeks. “Ah, it’s hard to remember you two are related sometimes, but denial seems to run in the family, _oui_?” 

_“No it doesn’t!”_

Marianne giggled at the simultaneous response from the two sisters, turning to look down at Isabella playfully. “Now, Isa, you have to promise me that you won’t be so difficult about love like them.” 

Marianne was expecting an eager confirmation, maybe a little joke to keep the mood light, but she certainly didn’t expect Isabella to jump to her feet with stars in her eyes.

“Now you’ve done it,” Monika groaned, one hand coming to rub at her temple as Isabella paced back and forth. 

“Oh, Mari, I won’t! In fact, I met this wonderful girl at the ball!” Isabella’s hands seemed to move with a life of their own as she talked. “She’s a little brash, but she’s so sweet once you get to know her!"

Marianne’s jaw dropped, letting Monika and Julchen go in favor of standing up herself. “You met someone at the ball?” 

“ _Sí!_ _”_ Isabella’s words were nearly going by too fast for Marianne to catch at this point. “We danced together and then we ran away because something happened, but I don’t really know what, but that’s ok too because I climbed over the wall to her garden to see her again later and, _Dios mío_ she looked like an angel on the balcony!”

“Wait, you climbed over…” 

Marianne paused and looked over Isabella with a barely hidden grin. “And what was her name?” 

“Chiara! Chiara Vargas!” 

Marianne shrieked with pure happiness, tugging Isabella close to spin her around, positively ecstatic with the news. Her excitement was quickly matched by Isabella, who laughed wildly as she was twirled along. 

“Oh, this is wonderful! I can’t believe it!” Marianne couldn’t have described the rush of life the news gave her. “I prayed that love would heal this troubled city, but I never thought it would come like this!” 

She looked over the three girls in front of her and was tempted to sing with joy. “Yes, it seems like there is hope after all!” 

“But it would be impossible for any of us to make this public,” Monika interrupted. “Especially for that one.” 

Marianne waved her off. “There is no need to! You are all getting older! Change starts from the heart and it will come whether Verona wants it to or not!” She turned back to Isabella eagerly. “Now, you mentioned that you had to sneak in to see Chiara?” 

Isabella nodded quickly, dark chocolate hair falling out of her bun with the sheer force behind her action. “Mhm! I don’t mind though!” 

“You would be fine with seeing her at the bottom of a river,” Marianne scoffed. “That is no way to treat a lady! I’ll send her a letter to see if she would prefer to meet you here in my garden.” 

Isabella gasped, practically vibrating in place from sheer elation. “Really?!”

“Of course! Who would try to stop her from visiting an innocent nun?” Marianne asked, placing a delicate hand on her chest as her eyes widened.

Julchen snorted from behind her. “Yeah, real innocent.” 

“Like you can talk.” 

The group burst out into laughter at Marianne’s quick reply, and to be honest, Marianne couldn’t have thought a better way to start her day. 

She had been tempted to flee Verona with the many artists before her, but she had held onto that hope that change would come, even if people continued to die in the streets before her eyes. It was tedious and it broke her heart more times than she could count to hold onto that desperate prayer, but now, that hope was finally growing as Marianne looked down at the trio and saw a bright future waiting ahead for them. 

Verona would learn to love again, she was sure of it, and it would start with the three young lovers laughing in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: mari was originally going to be benvolio so the btt could be together, but then i remembered that benvolio was supposed to have the brain cell of the group, so now she's a nun. i don't know how that happened either


	21. The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Marzia’s room was filled with birdsong and the sweet aroma of the blooming garden below her, open to the warm summer afternoon that waited just outside. The air was pleasantly charged with life, coaxing an idle atmosphere out of the sisters who were talking without a care in the world. 

They made a habit on slower days like these to eat together in their rooms, sharing light conversation and treating themselves to a much-needed break from the formal constraint around their lives. Here, Marzia could freely wave her hands in the air as much as she pleased as she talked while Chiara could scowl without fear of being reprimanded. 

Here, they were no longer the daughters of the Vargas family, but quite simply, Marzia and Chiara.

“Where the hell did you two even go last night?” Chiara voice was muffled from her spot on Marzia’s bed, which she had promptly taken over as soon as she stepped foot in her room. 

“Oh, we just walked around the town!” Marzia replied cheerfully, swinging her legs as she perched on the chair next to her vanity. “I didn’t know where we were going, but I’m pretty sure Monika did!” 

Marzia sighed, a dreamy glaze over her eyes as she leaned back in her seat. “She’s just so sweet, Chiara! I said I was getting tired on the way back, so she carried me all the way home until we had to hide from Anna.” A smile curved at her lips as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Monika is really strong and I was really scared of her when I first saw her, but she’s so gentle when she’s around me and it’s so _cute!_ ” 

Chiara rolled her eyes and snorted. “Of course you fall for the first buff German you see.” 

“That’s not a bad thing!” Marzia whined, kicking her heels against the legs of her chair. 

“Whatever you say,” Chiara said dismissively. “You just got lucky.” Her face seemed to drop, the gleam fading from her eyes as they looked down at the sheets. 

“Luckier than me, at least.” 

The playful atmosphere faded away, peeling away the unseen layers to reveal the resignation Chiara had carefully hidden away. Marzia’s smile fell, studying her sister carefully before she got up to make her way over to the bed. 

Chiara looked away as she sat down, resting one hand on top of Chiara’s own. 

“Why would you say that?” Marzia asked quietly, only to be met with a fierce scowl. 

“You know damn well why.” Chiara’s glare sharpened as she stared at the wall. “You’re not getting married off to some touchy bastard.” 

Marzia understood the unspoken second reason that Chiara dared not vocalize inside the Vargas estate. 

“You’re right,” she finally admitted. “I got lucky, but I think you can too.” 

“Stop lying to me.” Chiara brought her hand up and rolled over onto her side to turn her back to Marzia. 

“I’m not lying!” Marzia followed her insistently, leaning over to peer at Chiara. “I know you didn’t expect to have to marry Sanem, but you didn’t think you would meet _her_ either, did you?” 

She didn’t have to say her name for Chiara to tense up, shoulders rising defensively from her spot on the bed. 

“Two years is a long time,” Marzia continued softly. “ _Mamma_ could change her mind. And even if she didn’t, I’m sure you could still figure something out.” 

It was then that the gravity of Chiara’s predicament finally crashed down on Marzia, and she couldn’t help the tears that started to well up in her eyes. 

“I know you’ll figure something out. I know you will! And if you can’t, then I’ll do it for you!” 

And with that, Marzia started to cry. 

In a flash, Chiara was up and next to her, pushing her messy hair out of her face so she could roughly smear the tears away. “Why the hell are you crying now?” she muttered. “This isn’t even your damn problem.” 

“I know!” Marzia hiccuped desperately. “But I want to help you and I don’t know how!” 

Chiara shook her head, her hand smoothing over light auburn locks. “Why would you know what to do if I don’t, _idiota_?” 

“ _I don’t know!”_

Chiara sighed and started to run her fingers through Marzia’s hair, silencing herself as Marzia bawled in front of her. She let Marzia cry all the tears for the both of them, waiting until Marzia’s sporadic hiccups died down into quiet sniffling. 

“You know,” she said quietly, voice hushed to allow Marzia a chance to calm down, “Isabella came to see me last night after you left.” 

“She did?” Marzia wiped at her eyes messily, face flushed from emotion. “I asked her to go visit you, but I didn’t know if she actually did it.”

Chiara’s hand paused. “You told her to do that?” 

At her sister’s hesitant nod, Chiara stilled and then continued her path down Marzia’s head. “ _Stupida._ ” 

Her insult had a distinct lack of spite in it. 

“Did you tell her to spout all that romantic shit at me too?” 

“No,” Marzia mumbled, although her eyes held a curious shine to them. “She really did that?” 

“Mhm.” Chiara scowled instinctively at the memory. “I yelled at her and the bastard just started apologizing like she killed my family or something.” 

Marzia had to laugh at her sister’s choice of wording. “She’s really sweet though. I like her a lot.” 

“Of course you do.” There was a pause and then a hesitant breath before Chiara slowly tested out her next sentence cautiously. “Maybe you’re right.” 

When Marizia tilted her head at her, Chiara forced her last thought out. 

“I think I got lucky too.”

All of her hopeless despair was wiped away as Marzia squealed happily, tackling her sister onto the bed and wrapping her arms around her as tight as she could. “I know you did! Things have to work out now, and if they don’t then you can just make them!” 

Chiara froze in place before she managed to bark out a laugh, although she still shoved Marzia off of her. “Damn right I will!” 

The hopeful air returned with a vengeance, filled with a new confidence that sprang from youthful indulgence. Chiara could still feel the lingering anxiety, the hushed whisper that asked those traitorous _what-if_ questions, but it was drowned away by the rush of stubbornness that she embraced whole-heartedly. 

Sure, she was getting married to some possessive freak and sure, she might be fond for a certain enemy of her family, but she was going to get her way, even if she had to fight for it. 

A light knock on the door interrupted their conversation, opening up to reveal Elizabeta with a dirty white apron draped over her dress. She looked over the scene with a fond smile, wiping her hands off as she leaned on the doorframe. “Well you two are in a good mood.”

“You mean _she_ is,” Chiara corrected, nudging Marzia. “She won’t shut up about that stupid German she likes.”

Marzia, thank the Lord, took the hint and nodded eagerly, a beaming smile on her face. “But Monika is just so nice! Right, Eliza?” 

“Oh, she certainly is!” Elizabeta was barely hiding the amusement on her face as she crossed her arms. “She seemed to treat you well when you two were dancing.” 

“You saw that?!”

Both Elizabeta and Chiara had to laugh at the sudden flush that burst onto Marzia's cheeks, embarrassment written all over her face. 

“You were in public _, idiota_ ,” Chiara reminded her. “What were you expecting?” 

“Don’t be so mean, Chiara!” Elizabeta’s smile turned much more teasing as she eyed the older Vargas. “Not everyone can think ahead to try and hide their partners away for the night!”

“That’s not what happened!” 

Elizabeta burst into a fresh round of laughter at the bright red that now covered Chiara’s face, both sisters looking like they would rather be anywhere else at the moment. “Yes, yes, I’m sure it’s not. Either way, your lunch will be done soon and I’ll be right back with the plates.”

She turned to leave, but paused, whipping back around with a surprised, “Oh!” 

Elizabeta hurried over to the bed, pulling out a clean white envelope from the pocket of her apron and handing it over to Chiara. “Sister Marianne told me to get this to you as soon as possible. I don’t know why, but I think it would be safe to reply before tomorrow.” 

Elizabeta rushed back to the door once the letter was safely delivered. “Just tell me when you’re done and I’ll run it back to her!”

The door closed with a final smile from Elizabeta, leaving Chiara with the mysterious letter and Marzia desperately trying to reach it. 

“What’s it about? Can I read it?” 

Chiara promptly shoved her palm against Marzia’s face, holding her off as she squinted at the flowery cursive on the paper. “No. Now shut up and let me open this!” 

Marzia whined, but obediently stayed in her spot as Chiara retracted her hand to carelessly tear open the envelope, yanking out the letter inside and smoothing it out clumsily before she read it. 

Chiara scanned over the paper with narrowed eyes, but once she looked the message over, that suspicious look was quick to fall with a slack-jawed shock. 

“Let me see!” 

Marzia took Chiara’s moment of realization to snatch the letter from her hands, eagerly scanning the contents. 

It wasn't long before her face matched Chiara’s. The paper fluttered wildly in her hands as she shrieked and bounced on the bed. 

“Oh _mio Dio_!” Marzia nearly fell off the bed with the force of her jittering. “You’re going to meet her in Mari’s garden?!” 

“Shut up, _stupida!_ ” Chiara hissed, snatching the letter back and holding it close to her chest. “I’m not going to be able to meet anyone if you keep yelling!” 

Mariza’s head rocketed in a nod, her voice in a barely restrained hush although it still boiled over with energy. “What are you going to wear? Oh, maybe you should bring a gift! Isabella looks like the kind of person who would like that!” 

Chiara abruptly stood up with the letter still trapped protectively in her arms and a scowl twisting at her lips. “Can I write a damn response first before you get on me about what I’m going to do?” 

Marzia gasped, quick to dart after her sister as she stalked back to her own room. “Can I help you write it?” 

_“Touch my paper and I’ll throw you off the fucking balcony!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this late? yes. is this not part of the actual play? yes. do i care? immensely.


	22. Isabella's Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Lord Montague - Andrea Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Portugal)
> 
> Translations:  
> Meu Deus - My God

Isabella hummed as her brush worked over the canvas to carefully shape a dark blue sky, slowly layering color onto the blank expanse before her.

While Andrea had made her own room to paint in with a beautiful view of Verona, Isabella was content with working within the comfortable space of her own room. She didn’t pick up painting nearly as often or as intensely as her older sister, but Isabella still enjoyed capturing the little moments she held dear. 

Tucked away around her room were memories of her friends, Monika’s harsh frown and Julchen’s cackling laughter eternalized alongside Andrea’s teasing smirk and Marianne’s sly smile. They always made her heart warm when she saw them, a stationary reminder of the real people waiting to see her. 

This was a portrait she had intended to add to her collection the night she returned from the ball, but their day-long visit to see Marianne left her passed out on her bed until the next morning. 

In her opinion, Isabella had put this off for long enough. She scanned over her palette, dipping into a vibrant scarlet with a satisfied nod as she formed gentle lines that intertwined across the side of her subject. 

She worked quietly, all of her focus on the scene she was determined to recreate. Sharp green eyes traveled across her work as she stepped back, studying each line before narrowing in on a correction to make. 

This was a painting she couldn’t get wrong, even if she could never truly do it justice compared to the real thing. Still, she would at least try, working quietly in the late hours of the morning. 

A careful hand teased life out of the colors in front of her, swirling them together in order to bring the image still vivid in her head onto the canvas. Deep grays and silvery whites streaked across the canvas, light bronze added with gentle strokes. A hint of a pale yellow floated above the center, a dreamy light casting onto her subject. 

With hands stained with a vast array of colors just like the portrait in front of her, Isabella stepped back one last time with a wide smile as she took in her finished work. 

Looking off to the side was Chiara, leaning against the balcony overlooking the Vargas’ garden with her head resting on one hand. Her white nightgown fluttered against her legs, dark chestnut hair swept across her shoulders with one stray curl peeking out from the side of her head. Faint moonlight cast over her figure, adding a silver sheen to her body while vibrant crimson roses wrapped around her stage, curling around the edges of the canvas to surround her in full bloom. 

Isabella sighed happily, taking in the now eternal picture of Chiara for a moment before she wiped her hands off on her pants, smearing paint everywhere. She gently picked up the stand and moved her portrait to dry in the corner, the back facing the door should anyone come in. When it was ready, that painting would be well hidden, Isabella’s most valuable work for her to admire in secret. 

Thankfully, Isabella seemed to have moved just in time since a knock on the door quickly interrupted her reverie. Her head snapped up when a maid entered the room, bowing her head respectfully. 

“Miss Carriedo, there’s a letter for you from Sister Marianne.” A clean envelope was handed to her, only to be stained with the remainder of a royal blue streak on Isabella’s hands. “She said there was no need for you to answer as long as you read it.” 

“Ah, thank you!” The maid bowed her head again and left the room, shutting the door behind her quietly as Isabella tore open the envelope, setting it aside as she took a seat on her bed. She was careful not to touch the ink with her hands, smoothing it out with her elbows before she gingerly held onto the edge of the paper. 

Contemplative eyes scanned loosely over the paper, reaching the end nonchalantly. Isabella held her hand out to toss the paper aside, but froze once the meaning of the letter sank in. She whipped it back in front of her, frantically reading through the message once more to make sure she hadn’t read it wrong. 

Sure enough, even as she read and re-read it, the invitation to Marianne's garden to meet with a certain guest today never changed on the paper it was written on.

Today. 

_Today._

Isabella let out a shriek, rolling back and forth on her bed as she clutched the letter to her chest. She couldn’t even form the right words to describe what she was feeling, excited screams bursting from her chest as her hands shook with the grip she had on the paper. 

It took Isabella a minute to calm herself down enough to realize that she was still dressed in her pajamas, had her hair in tangles and was completely covered in paint. 

She was off her bed in a flash, the now colorful letter left behind on her bed as she scurried around the room to get dressed and find some water to wipe the paint off. She rushed through her usual attempts at cleaning up, shoving her boots on and wrestling a deep blue shirt over her head as she ran a brush through her hair, taking on her dearest sister’s habit of swearing like a sailor when under pressure.

Within five minutes, her frenzied routine threw her out into the hall, tying a messy bun as a shocking mixture of Spanish and Portuguese curses followed her stumbling run to get to Marianne’s garden in time. However, a quick hand swung out from one of the rooms, effectively stopping her in her tracks when Isabella essentially punched herself in the stomach.

“ _Meu Deus_ girl, where the hell are you going?”

Isabella opened her mouth to answer, but a series of harsh coughs forced their way out instead as she fumbled to catch her breath, gasping for air as she doubled over. 

Andrea only patted her on the back with a little too much force. “You gonna answer me now?”

“I would, but I’m in a bit of a hurry!” Isabella tried to get past her sister only to be yanked back by her arm. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Andrea’s eyes narrowed as she stared Isabella down. “You are _not_ going to run around my house like the devil himself is chasing you without one hell of an explanation!” 

“Andrea,” Isabella whined, her voice pitching much higher than usual as she shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot. “I’m going to be late! I promise I’ll tell you later, but right now, I really need to _go_!” 

“If the way you’re running says anything then you’re already late! So just stay still for two seconds and tell me where you’re going!” 

“Mari! I’m gonna go to Mari’s garden!” Isabella rushed out, already trying to make her way down the hall to no avail. 

“Since when were you this excited to see Marianne?” Andrea’s grip tightened when Isabella attempted to squirm her way out of her hold. “Try again.” 

“But I’m telling you the truth!” 

“Not the whole truth you’re not!” 

Isabella let out a long groan, rolling her head back. “Fine! I’m going to go see a girl!” 

Andrea’s eyes widened for a moment before she burst out into laughter, her grip never once loosening. 

“A _girl?_ ” 

Isabella whined again, stomping her foot like a child. “Andrea!” 

“You got this excited over a _girl_?” 

“Can I go now?” 

“No!” Andrea was bent over, free hand resting on her knees as she practically howled with delight. “This is too good! Here I thought that someone had died-” 

“Andrea!” 

“-when you come _running_ down the hall-” 

“Andrea, just let me go!” 

“-looking like you just fell out of a tree-” 

“I’m serious Andrea!” 

“-because you’re head over heels for some _girl_!” 

“Andrea please!” Isabella was getting desperate now, fingertips twitching in a useless attempt at expelling her nervous energy. “You can tease me about this later, but just let me go!”

“Oh, I’m definitely getting on you about this later,” Andrea finally let Isabella’s arm go as the last of her giggles faded away. “God, you’re hopeless.” 

“No I’m not!” Isabella yelled behind her, already darting off to make her way to the door. 

“Bring a snack or something to apologize!” Andrea called out after her as her younger sister disappeared. “There’s pastries in the kitchen!” 

Isabella faltered at that, slowing down for a brief second before changing her course. 

As Andrea promised, there were plates of freshly baked sweets waiting on the table, various sugar-coated scents filling the air as she looked over her options. 

The few servants who were cleaning up wisely stayed out of her way, having learned from experience after serving the Carriedo’s for so long. Isabella paid them no mind, mind solely focused on what to bring. 

Now that she thought about it, she had no idea what exactly that gift should be. Every time Isabella settled on something, there was always a nagging doubt that made her skip over her choice. The motion of her hand briefly reaching for something that caught her eye before it hesitated and dropped again was becoming way too familiar to her. 

After all, how was she supposed to know if chocolate was a safer bet than strawberry? Or was it the other way around?

The spread of pastries in front of her suddenly seemed much more daunting than it first appeared.

Isabella was nearly ready to give up and just run off to grovel for forgiveness instead when she spotted a familiar treat standing innocently on the corner of the table from the corner of her eye.

With a bright smile, Isabella snatched up her chosen gifts, snagging a spare cloth from the counter to wrap them up as she dashed out of her home to sprint towards the garden where Chiara was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy howdy can you see the slowly declining quality as time goes on? i sure can


	23. Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Friar Lawrence - Marianne Bonnefoy (Fem! France)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)
> 
> Translations:  
> Amoureuse - Lover

Isabella found herself in front of the church in record time, keeping a tight grip on Chiara’s gift as she dashed through the square.

She knew she was already late, but she found herself still filled to the brim with fervent joy in the warm sunlight. Just the thought of opening the gate and seeing Chiara, no longer separated by the height of the balcony between them, had Isabella pushing herself just a little harder to get there faster. 

“Thank you for meeting with Miss Vargas today. I have a feeling she’s been in need of company for a while now.”

She screeched to a halt once she heard that voice, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did so. Isabella whipped her head around to desperately search for cover and only barely managed to throw herself into a nearby alleyway as the door to the garden opened and Anneliese stepped out. 

“Of course.” Marianne’s voice drifted out from the door, breezily reaching Isabella’s hiding place. “I would never pass up a chance to see either of those precious girls.” 

“It’s very kind of you regardless.” A brief pause “Please send for me when you’re finished. I’ll escort Miss Vargas back home.” 

“When do you not?” Marianne laughed, the sound hushed from the distance between them. “But, I will keep that in mind. Thank you again, Anneliese.” 

“It was my pleasure, Sister Marianne.” 

Brisk footsteps made their way over and Isabella pressed herself to the wall as tightly as she could, breath hitching when Anneliese’s scarlet cape fluttered in front of her. Isabella didn’t dare to move until Anneliese continued to walk by without a pause or a glance in her direction, footsteps having faded away a long time ago before she dared to peek her head out.

Marianne's amused face was the first thing that greeted her near-death experience.

“Look at you, coming here for one woman and almost running right into the arms of another,” Marianne teased, opening the door wider to let her oblivious guest in. 

“That was an accident!” Isabella huffed out in defense, although she still darted over to the entrance as quickly as possible. “Is Chiara here?” 

Marianne’s near smirk melted into a smile, gesturing towards the garden with one grand sweep of her hand. “Sitting on the stairs. Don’t keep your little _amoureuse_ waiting any longer!”

“I won’t!” Isabella rushed out, leaving Marianne with a grateful wave before she was off to meet Chiara. As she left, she could hear Marianne laugh quietly before she turned to make her exit, closing the door behind her to grant some privacy. 

The quiet of the garden would never cease to stun Isabella, tranquility blooming with the carefully grown herbs and flowers. It was a place of peace in Verona, and while Isabella usually would have taken a minute to appreciate it, she had other larger concerns on her mind. 

She quickly made her way past the flora around her, boots thudding against the dirt in her haste before they suddenly paused. 

Sitting on the stairs, waiting with one hand propping up her head while the other loosely twirled a crimson rose in her hand was Chiara. The stark contrast between her expensive ballgown and loose nightgown was gone, leaving her in a casual dress in a comfortable balance between the two. Deep russet hair was carefully brushed back and held in place with a bright red ribbon, although a few strands fell out of place despite the effort to tame them. However, that still image broke when Isabella approached her, a pair of wide amber eyes that seemed to shine with liquid gold in the sun staring back at her. 

Isabella was frozen in her place, unable to bring herself to move, struck by the sudden awareness that finally, Chiara was out in plain sight. There was no barrier between them, no expensive masks or private balconies forcing their words to be thrown desperately at each other in the hopes that the distance between them wouldn’t swallow them up. 

But now, there was no obstacle in front of her, no wall to climb, and Isabella couldn’t help the beaming grin that spread across her face as she raced forward. 

“You’re here!” Isabella threw herself onto the stairs next to Chiara, nearly tripping and falling over the stone before she caught herself and sat down. “You’re really here!” 

Chiara yanked her cherry red skirt back before Isabella could crush it, the bright yellow hem flashing briefly in the light as she snapped. “Of course I am! Why the hell wouldn’t I be here?” 

Isabella chuckled to herself, her legs bouncing against the stone with all of the energy of the wagging tail of a young puppy. “ _Lo siento_ , I’m just happy to see you!” 

Chiara rolled her eyes, although Isabella could see her cheeks light up with a faint hint of pink. “Stop apologizing. I got it the first time.” 

“Ah, I’m so-” 

Isabella snapped her mouth shut when Chiara glared at her. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Chiara’s scowl melted away, hesitance slowly creeping across her features as her fingers tightened around the stem of the rose, curling protectively around the proud blossom. 

Isabella frowned, a hint of concern breaking through the sheer excitement of the morning. She was ready to ask Chiara if anything was wrong when the rose was promptly shoved in her direction, held out by a stubborn hand as Chiara refused to meet her gaze. 

Isabella only stared at her, lips slightly parted in shock as the gears in her head promptly stopped turning. The lack of distance between them made itself very clear to her, memories of a rose slipping from Chiara’s fingertips to get to her arising as she felt her face heat up. 

Chiara glanced in her direction impatiently, cheeks slowly darkening. “You better take this or I’m leaving.” 

That pushed Isabella into action, graciously accepting the rose with a broad smile. Her fingers grazed against the back of Chiara’s own, no gloves to stop her from brushing against smooth skin for a brief moment, a heavy red painting both of their faces at the contact. “I will, I will! Thank you!” 

Isabella carefully studied the length of the stem before she nodded to herself, reaching up to tuck the rose into the side of her messy bun with as much care as she did the first. As she worked, Chiara watched on quietly, eyes fixated on the rose in her hair. 

“Why do you do that?” she finally asked, resting her head on her palm once more. 

Isabella blinked once, forcing Chiara to bring her other hand up to point at the flower. 

It was a fairly brief explanation, but that was more than enough to work with. 

“Oh!” Isabella’s hand fluttered up to the petals as she launched into her answer. “I just think they’re pretty! And it’s like my own little reminder that I get to see you!” 

However, her hand slowly fell as the confidence drained from her body, her smile dropping into a nervous frown. “Why, does it not look good? I can take it ou-” 

“No!” 

Both Isabella and Chiara seemed stunned by the shout that left Chiara, although she continued to press forward after their brief lull. 

“No,” Chiara mumbled, much quieter now compared to her first outburst. “It-it looks good. On you.” 

Isabella took in Chiara’s halting sentences for a minute, processing them slowly before her grin came back in full force, face feeling much too hot for it to be just the sun. “You really think so?” 

“Are you deaf?” Chiara snapped back at her, embarrassment painted on her cheeks. “I’m not repeating myself!” 

Isabella had to laugh at her defensive reply, filled with eager joy from her rare compliment. “I won’t make you then!” 

Still, her smile softened, taking in the woman before her with nothing but tender kindness. “Thank you.” 

“You better be.” 

Isabella had to giggle at the way Chiara crossed her arms, stubbornly keeping her eyes on the stones at her feet. The rose rested comfortably in her hair, a hand coming up every so often to brush over the petals of Chiara's present before it fell again. 

It truly was a sweet gesture, one that forced Isabella to remember her own hastily wrapped gift resting on her lap.

"Oh!” Isabella held her gift out, excitedly jittering in place. “I almost forgot! I know I was kinda late, so I got this for you!” 

“Huh?” Chiara stared blankly at her outstretched arms before her eyes narrowed, gingerly plucking the bundle from her hands. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“I know, but I wanted to!” 

What little patience Isabella had to see Chiara's reaction was quickly melting away the longer it took for her to open it.

Chiara only gave her a glance from her side before she shook her head, carefully untying the fabric to reveal a small plain loaf of bread and a jar of honey no bigger than the rose on Isabella’s head. At Chiara’s curious look, Isabella quickly explained herself. 

“I didn’t know what kind of food you liked, so I didn’t want to get anything with too strong of a flavor!” Her hands were now in the air, drawing out her words. “I figured this was pretty safe! When I was little, Andrea used to give this to me and I really liked it, so I thought you might too!”

Isabella's eagerness slowly dropped alongside with her hands into a much more bashful grin. 

"Now that I think about it though, I think she gave me that so I would just shut up while she was working."

Chiara kept her blank stare fixed on her lap and Isabella was already planning out a whole new apology in her head when she saw a brief smile flash across her face. However, when Chiara turned to face her, it was gone, one eyebrow quirking up when she saw Isabella fidgeting in place.

“Don’t just sit there, _idiota_ ,” she huffed. “Do I look like I can eat this whole thing myself?” 

With that, Isabella beamed, scooting closer to Chiara as she laid their treat out between their laps. 

This was the kind of scene that Isabella could only fantasize about, a daydream entertained for a brief afternoon before it faded away. Together, the two spirited themselves away from the wrathful streak of Verona, hidden under the shadow of the church and safe in the afternoon sun that warmed the secret garden around them. Idle hands picked at the bread between them, the sticky honey made so much sweeter with the euphoric knowledge that they had defied the odds to be here, sharing this afternoon with one another. 

Quiet conversation filtered through the peaceful air, drifting through the summer haze that settled over them. Isabella’s cheerful laughter and Chiara’s harsh snaps lazily easing their way out between them. 

Once there was no more bread, they simply scooped up the honey with their fingers, something that absolutely would have been forbidden if they were at their homes. But here, wrapped up in the soothing scent of the flowers around them and the atmosphere as sweet and viscous as the honey they licked off their fingertips, they indulged themselves with an ease that seemed to come naturally between them. 

When Isabella glanced to her side, she had to smile when she saw Chiara quietly enjoying the last of the honey, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen before. Chiara’s head tilted in her direction, studying her with a lazy gaze that traveled down to her hands before she rolled her eyes.

Isabella didn't miss that little gesture, pausing once she caught her stare again. 

"Hmm? Is something wrong?" 

Chiara shook her head. "You're hopeless." 

Without another word, she grabbed the cloth resting on her lap, crumpling it together before she snatched Isabella's hands. 

Isabella could only stare, all coherent thoughts promptly flung out of her head as Chiara wiped off the last of the honey. Chiara kept her head bowed as she worked, a small mercy since Isabella really wasn't sure if she could handle seeing her face right now. The cloth was worked over her hands with a little too much force, but Isabella found that to be the last of her concerns at the moment.

"You got it everywhere." Sharp amber eyes flickered up to meet Isabella's own. "This really made you shut up when you were younger?" 

Isabella had an answer, and it really was resting on the tip of her tongue, but that response never quite managed to make it out of her mouth. She settled for a nod instead. 

Chiara scoffed, although she was missing her usual derisive tone. "Man, you really were a stupid kid." 

"Huh?" 

That certainly snapped Isabella's voice into action, if only to keep up a mock defense for their exchange. She glanced down at Chiara's still-sticky fingers, a broad grin jumping up onto her face. 

"You ate it the same way I did though!" 

In the span of a second, Chiara whipped her hand up to smack Isabella in the face with the fabric. 

"Mind your own damn business!" 

Isabella couldn't stop the bubbling laughter that burst from her chest, even when Chiara smacked her again. No matter how she tried to cover it up with a scowl, Isabella could still see Chiara's shoulders shaking with barely restrained giggles. 

She never was one to give up an opportunity presented to her.

"But it's true!" 

"Did I ask?"

"No-" 

"Then shut up!" 

When Chiara raised her head, Isabella only caught a glimpse of her untamed grin before she was quickly shoved over. 

Even as she hit the stone with a yelp, she couldn't find it in herself to retaliate once Chiara doubled over, practically howling with the force of her laughter. Isabella found herself swept up in Chiara's delight, cheeks aching with the force of her smile as she righted herself once more. 

"See?" Isabella's voice left her in a wheeze, although that was nothing compared to the heaves coming from Chiara. "You're just as bad as me!" 

"Sure." Chiara barely made any attempt to hide her grin as she brought her hand up to her face for a brief moment to brush her hair back. "Shut up and give me your hands."

Isabella obediently held her hands back out, allowing Chiara to work as the last of their mirth left them in breathless gasps and wide smiles. Hilarity died down into a warm amusement, leaving behind a comfortable glow to fill in the gaps. 

Chiara let go of one hand after holding it up to examine it, unceremoniously dumping it back onto Isabella's lap before she turned to the next. That hand was quick to prop itself up on Isabella's leg, head falling to rest on her fist. 

If Chiara was paying attention, Isabella knew that there was no way she would have gotten away with the unabashed staring she was doing. But for once, she was free to look as much as she pleased and Isabella indulged in that chance wholeheartedly. 

There was a moment when Chiara squinted, and Isabella was fully ready to prepare herself for another blow, but she never looked up. Instead, her gaze was fixated on a certain patch of her wrist.

“Is that paint?” 

“Oh, I must have missed that!” Isabella straightened up as she rubbed at the dot of dark red that stained her skin with an easy smile. “I was working on something before I got here.” 

Chiara made a vague noise of acknowledgment, setting the cloth off to the side and releasing Isabella's hand. “Of course you’re a painter like your sister.” 

“I don’t do it nearly as much as she does though!” Isabella leaned her weight back, resting her palms on the step above her. “Andrea gets really intense about her work. She has her own room for it and everything!” 

“Marzia does too, but she doesn’t like to use it,” Chiara commented, glancing over at Isabella as she spoke. “She just whines until someone drags her stuff out to the garden to work there.” 

Isabella had to laugh at the image that formed in her mind. “Andrea used to work outside too, but the room she made has a really nice view of the city, so she just uses that instead!” 

“A nice view, huh?” 

“Mhm!” The dark strands of hair that didn’t make into Isabella’s bun flew across her face as she nodded. “You can see all the buildings from there since it’s in the tallest part of the house! All of the streets light up differently during different parts of the day, so depending on where you look, it’s like there’s separate worlds outside!” 

A wistful look crept onto Chiara’s face that Isabella wasn’t blind to. 

“Do you not see things like that often?” Isabella asked gently, earning a brief pause before a small nod answered her. 

“ _Mamma_ doesn’t like to let us leave the house.” A tense scowl soon crossed over the longing contemplation. “Says it’s too dangerous or whatever.” 

Isabella frowned, mulling over how to best comfort her when the perfect idea struck her. 

“Why don’t you just sneak out then?” 

Chiara blinked.

“What?” 

“You could go out at night!” Isabella explained, her excitement bubbling up the longer she talked. “I could come get you and we could walk around and see whatever you like!” 

She gasped when that little idea kept expanding, unfolding itself before her eyes as she tried her best to translate it to Chiara. 

“I could even bring Monika so Marzia can come too! We’ll just meet back up later to get you two back home and we’ll have the whole night to ourselves!”

Ever so slowly, a tiny smile crept up on Chiara’s face. 

“Oh, and Julchen can come to make sure Anna doesn’t catch you guys! She’ll probably complain a little, but I know she likes to see her!” 

“How does that sound?” Isabella looked down for Chiara’s approval and was met with an amused look directed straight at her. 

Chiara only searched her face before she let out a sigh, that smile still having yet to fade away. “You look like an idiot when you talk like that.” 

Isabella’s earnest grin melted into a sheepish smile. “Do I really?” 

“Yeah.” Chiara let out a quiet laugh, a hint of warmth melting her caramel eyes. “Don’t change it.” 

Isabella paused before she laughed, warmed by the fondness that enveloped her as she planned out the rest of the night, Chiara nodding along without saying a word. Isabella knew she was still paying attention though, taking her words to heart, and that made her smile more than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not dead!! i just got swamped with work and completely ran out of time to keep up with my schedule! i'm probably going to be busy for the next few weeks, so i'm going to cut down updates for maybe twice a week until i can get it together again. i promise this won't be for forever though and i'm very sorry for dropping off so suddenly!


	24. Slip Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara took a deep breath, resting her head on her arms as her wrists dangled off the stone edge, a plucked rose resting precariously in her loose grip as a string of fabrics tied to the base of the balcony swayed in the wind.

The air was warm, muted with the rise of the moon and the quiet of the night, but still pleasant enough for her to wait outside. Elizabeta had long since dropped by to check in on her before she went off to sleep, leaving the usually busy halls silent. Chiara was nearly tempted to follow her example and leave the open balcony behind for the comfort of her bed, but the slowly blooming anticipation in her chest forced her awake, eyes locked on the garden wall below her. 

Every so often, she would glance over her shoulder to see if Marzia had finally decided to show up, but there was never anyone there to greet her. If she had to guess, she would say that Marzia had either completely forgotten about their meeting or fell asleep before she could get ready. 

Chiara was willing to put her odds on both. 

The light flutter of the makeshift rope under her snapped her attention back to reality, peering down over the edge as it briefly swayed with the push of the wind before swinging back to rest in gentle rock back to a neutral position. 

This was one of Isabella’s ideas that Chiara had refused to participate in the second it left her mouth. The sheer absurdity of it had her wary from the start, but Isabella’s eager, if not somewhat rambling, explanations forced her to begrudgingly agree. 

It had taken her a while to tie the old fabrics together into the knots that Isabella had tried to demonstrate with flower stems, but somehow, a crude excuse of a rope was born. 

There was no way Chiara was going down that thing alone though. She had faith in Isabella, sure, but not in the rope that looked like it was going to fall apart the second she put any weight on it. 

Her head lolled to the side, staring off without really seeing anything as she idly twirled the rose in her hands. Chiara’s eyes fell shut for a moment, taking in the warm summer breeze that brushed against her face. 

Keeping herself awake became a struggle that she hadn't quite anticipated, but it was one Chiara faced nonetheless. There was nothing to disturb her here and she found herself grateful for the calm, despite the fact that her eyes were slowly getting harder to open with each slow blink. 

Chiara’s mind was already turning dangerously blank when she heard the light tapping of footsteps on the other side of the wall. It took her a minute to realize exactly what that meant, not quite as quick to connect the dots in her haze. 

But the second it finally clicked, her head snapped back up, eyes wide as she stared at the edge of the wall with bated breath. 

Before long the footsteps drew to a close as a pair of gloved hands appeared on the wall, fumbling for a good grip until Isabella poked her head up from the other side, a bright smile on her face. 

“Chiara!” 

Her hasty attempts to climb the wall forced a grin out of Chiara, watching with barely hidden amusement as Isabella struggled to heave herself up before looking back up at her with a cheerful wave. She dropped to the ground with a barely audible thud, already stumbling out of her landing in order to speed over to the balcony. 

Chiara could only shake her head as Isabella looked back up at her, bouncing from foot to foot. “How the hell did you even get over the first time?” 

“I have no idea!” 

Something about Isabella’s earnest delivery forced Chiara to briefly cover her mouth, holding back the laughter that was threatening to give them both away. Isabella didn’t seem to mind though, only waiting with a rushed patience that Chiara could see falling apart before her eyes. 

“You’re hopeless,” she finally got out, although she had to pay extra attention to her volume as she spoke.

“I know!” Isabella looked about ready to climb up the balcony herself with the way she was eyeing the rope. “Are you going to come down now?” 

Chiara rolled her eyes, but hoisted herself over the edge of the balcony. “Maybe if you shut up for once.” 

Seeing Isabella’s mouth snap back shut the second that sentence left Chiara’s mouth nearly made her laugh, but she managed to keep her head down for a moment to recollect herself as she crouched down to grab the end of the rope. 

The amount of trust she had in her own creation was still at an all-time low, eyeing the messily tied knots with no small amount of distrust as she worked her way down, careful to avoid crushing the rose in her hand. 

It was only when she felt a warm pair of hands on her waist when she got to the halfway point did she snap her head down to find Isabella’s easy smile aimed right back at her. 

“You look a little worried,” came the simple explanation. “So I thought I would help.” 

Chiara wanted to question the true intention behind that, but the sharp response she had ready died on the tip of her tongue when she saw only earnest care scrawled all over Isabella’s face. 

“Whatever.” 

She didn’t miss the way Isabella’s smile grew wider before she turned her head back to focus on the rope in her hands, steadily climbing down with Isabella’s guiding hold on her hips. 

Those hands never left their place once Chiara’s feet hit the ground, only pausing when she turned to face Isabella before they relaxed once again. She was nearly chest to chest with Isabella, back in a familiar stance that brought back a trickle of memories of a crowded ballroom and silent hallway. 

Although, seeing Isabella now without a mask to hide her face, Chiara had to admit that this was just as good of a sight to see. 

Isabella didn't say a word though, only looking over Chiara as that bright grin melted into a fond smile. 

"You look beautiful."

Chiara would never cease to be struck by the sheer amount of honesty in her voice, face flushing under Isabella's warm gaze no matter how hard she tried to will it away. 

"Shut up."

A quiet chuckle escaped Isabella's lips. She gently pulled Chiara closer, arms slowly drawing her in to present what was probably the largest window of opportunity for Chiara to turn away that she had ever seen. 

Not that she needed it now. 

"You really are though." Isabella's tone took on a playful curve as she grinned down at Chiara. "I think you get prettier every time I see you."

There was absolutely no way Chiara could hide the burst of heat that flooded her cheeks when she was completely wrapped up in Isabella's arms. 

“Stupid romantic.” 

Even Chiara couldn't believe how quiet her own voice was, something that definitely didn't escape Isabella if her hushed giggling had anything to say about it. 

Chiara's face twisted into a scowl in an instinctive defense, even if she wanted nothing more than to scream at herself for allowing that embarrassed blush scramble onto her face. "I said shut up!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" That clear delight in Isabella's eyes only made that prickly shame burst from its place in Chiara's chest. "I've never seen you so red before though!"

“Did you not hear what I just said?” 

That only made Isabella toss her head back, grinning with cheek to cheek as she tried her best to muffle her own laughter. 

Chiara’s frown deepened. There was absolutely no way to wave away the constant thrum of embarrassment that threatened to burn her alive right then and there. The simultaneous presence of both sheer anger and shame gave her an amount of whiplash that she wasn't expecting to deal with, leaving her scrambling for a solution to either solve it or strike back. Before she realized that her hand was moving, Chiara was already reaching up to brush Isabella’s hair back behind her ear. 

The laughter promptly cut itself off, Isabella’s mouth snapping shut as she stared at Chiara with a wide-eyed awe that she adamantly refused to return. 

Her heart was threatening to burst right out of her chest as the rose in her hand was slowly tucked into Isabella’s bun in an act of will that Chiara never would have thought she was capable of, if not for the sake of spite. She kept her eyes fixed on the vibrant petals as she smoothed them out, adjusting the stem in order to leave the flower on full display. 

It took all of her courage not to climb back up and hide away under her covers as she fixed the rose, but Chiara managed to finish her ridiculously impulsive attempt at retribution without faltering. Deft fingers smoothed out the dark flyaways as Chiara finally allowed herself to glance at Isabella’s face once the rose was settled in her hair. 

The violent red that burst all over her sun-kissed skin made it all worth it. 

“Bastard.” Chiara’s hands always seemed to find some little detail in Isabella’s hair to fix, never finishing long enough in order to drop them again. “You look worse than me.” 

Isabella only stared at her, opening her mouth once before it quickly closed again. Wide green eyes remained fixated on her, glazed over with her pupils blown wide. All of her grand confidence and unabashed compliments seemed to fade away, leaving behind a mess of a Spaniard for Chiara to see.

She had to admit, she could see the appeal in all of Isabella’s teasing if it would get her a reaction like this each time. 

However, her head whipped up when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side of the wall, quickly pushing Isabella back just as Monika hefted herself over the wall. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she whispered, jumping down easily and brushing her hands off in a fluid gesture. “Julchen decided that tonight would be the night she took her time to get dressed.” 

Monika paused once she looked up, glancing over at Isabella with barely hidden confusion. 

Chiara followed her gaze and was just about ready to die on the spot when she saw the bright red blush still sprawled all over Isabella’s face, coupled with the slight glaze in her eyes that she couldn’t quite shake off in time. 

“Is everything oka-” 

“Fine! It’s fine!” Chiara’s scowl was slapped back on her face in record time. “Mind your own damn business!” 

She could practically feel the confusion radiating from Monika as she stared at her, an uncertain curve to her brow as she opened her mouth and quickly closed it again. 

“Nevermind.” 

Monika cleared her throat once and glanced around the garden, noticeably keeping her gaze away from Isabella. “Is Marzia here?” 

“Mhm!” 

Chiara’s head snapped up at the answer that wasn’t her’s, looking back up at the balcony to see Marzia looking like an absolute wreck. Her skirt crumpled up at her legs and her hair was nearly falling out of the messy excuse of a ponytail on her head, but she was still climbing over the edge of the balcony in record time to slide down the rope. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Chiara hissed, leaning over to smack Marizia the second she touched the ground. 

“I’m sorry!” Marzia’s arms came up to cover her face. “I got really tired, but I didn’t want to get ready yet, so I took a nap!” 

“ _You took a nap?_ ” 

Marzia barely ducked in time to avoid Chiara’s slap to the back of her head. In the blink of an eye, she was behind Monika’s back, peeking out from her spot with wide eyes. 

“I said I’m sorry!” Marzia glanced up at Monika for some support, only to receive a heavy sigh. 

“Did you really fall asleep?” 

“I didn’t mean to!” 

“What, you think your little German girlfriend is going to save you now?” Chiara snapped in. 

She decided to ignore the fact that both Marzia and Monika turned bright red, already scowling at the two with a few choice words on her mind. However, a hand on her shoulder stopped her from finishing her tirade as Isabella finally rejoined the group, looking much more recollected than she had been a few minutes ago. 

“It’s just an accident!” Isabella shot Marzia a bright smile. “Don’t worry about it! I do that too!”

“You have the lowest standards out of everyone here!” 

“I think that’s enough.” Monika’s voice still managed to hold her authority despite the fact that she still kept her eyes well away from Marzia. “We’re late enough already. Julchen’s waiting on the other side for us.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Marzia trailed after Monika like a lost puppy as she made her way back over to the wall, trying to catch her eyes with each step. “I’m sorry Monika! I’ll make it up to you!” 

“That’s not what I said!” 

Marzia’s frantic pleading and Monika’s exasperated responses followed them as Marzia was lifted up over the wall, their conversation never pausing even as Monika jumped up to follow her until the two were gone. 

“They’re both idiots,” Chiara mumbled. 

“They’re just having some fun,” came the amused reply. 

Chiara glanced up at Isabella and shook her head when she saw the still-present grin on her face. “Just hurry up and go.” 

“Whatever you want.” 

The two made their way over to the wall in a much less frenzied fashion, neither finding any need to rush out. 

But now that she thought about it, the wall really was much higher than Chiara remembered. Looking at it from the ground up made it seem much more daunting than she originally thought it was. Chiara couldn't really blame Isabella's fumbling entrance now that she was here herself.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. Pick me up already."

Isabella let out a quiet chuckle before she stepped up behind Chiara, offering a fleeting source of warmth as she gently adjusted her hold on Chiara's waist before lifting her up.

It took a minute and a near collapse before Chiara could get a steady grip on the rock, a last push from Isabella finally getting her elbows over. She swung one leg up and managed to pull herself up with much less grace than Isabella had, resolutely keeping her eyes away from Isabella and focusing on getting over as quickly as possible instead. 

As she dropped down, Chiara could already see Marzia chatting with Julchen, Monika looking more than displeased at the interaction. Her landing seemed to break the flow of their talk though, all three of them turning to look at her once she hit the ground. 

“Alright!” Chiara would never admit to the way she jumped when Isabella’s voice came out of nowhere from her side. “That’s everyone, right?” 

“Yeah!” Julchen crowed, immediately getting smacked on the back of the head with a hissed reminder from Monika to keep her voice down. 

“Very well.” Monika already had one hand coming up to rub at her temples. “Meet back here in two hours. We can’t afford to keep you two out any longer than that.” 

“Speak for yourself, bastard.” 

“Chiara!” Marzia’s voice held an uncanny resemblance to a dog’s whine as she clung to Monika with seemingly no regard for the way Monika tensed up further at her movement. “Why do you have to be so mean to her?” 

“Oh, we can go now?” 

Before Chiara could even think about responding to her sister, Isabella had already taken her arm and promptly yanked her down the street. Chiara had to physically bite her tongue to stop the yelp that nearly jumped out, stumbling to catch up with Isabella’s too-fast pace. 

“What the hell is your problem?” 

“Wait, we’re leaving?” 

Chiara just barely managed to look up in time to see Marzia immediately cart Monika off, dragging her off with a frankly terrifying amount of force as she chatted happily to her hostage. Julchen only looked between them with a hand slapped over her mouth, shoulders shaking with the force of her restrained laughter. Chiara wanted to go back just to deal with the smug grin on her face, but Isabella's near-jog offered no mercy when it came to changing directions. 

“It’s a little far, but I bet you’ll like where we’re going!” Isabella laughed, never once slowing down as she talked. 

Chiara’s head snapped up, fumbling to keep up with Isabella’s steps as she glared up at her. “And we have the whole damn night to get there! Slow down!” 

Isabella grinned down at her, the force of her enthusiasm nearly blinding in the night. Still, her frantic pace slowed down a considerable amount in order to follow Chiara's command, taking on a much more leisurely tempo. “Sorry!” 

“You better be!” 

Despite her caution, Chiara allowed herself to be led down the street by Isabella’s whimsical guide, uncertain of where she was going within the empty city. With Isabella's steady presence at her side though, she found that she didn't quite care what the destination would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man this was unusually hard to get out for some reason. hope you're all doing well so far


	25. Of The Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy) 
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

“Are you going to tell me where the hell we’re going?” 

“Nope!” Isabella flashed a grin to Chiara as she walked down the street, arms swaying freely by her sides with each step she took. “That would ruin the point of the surprise!” 

Chiara's suspicions still grew when the stone road under them slowly became overrun with dirt, paved streets disappearing into uneven soil the further they went from Verona. “Why are we even out here?”

Isabella’s grin only grew larger, a flash of excitement darting through her eyes as she launched into her answer without a second thought.

“Well, you mentioned that you don’t get to go out very often, so I thought you might like it if you could see something a little different!” she explained, one hand coming up to circle the air eagerly. “I really think you’ll enjoy it though.” 

Chiara hummed, lazily glancing to her side to eye Isabella. “Is that a promise?” 

Her beaming grin simmered down into a warm smile.

“Of course.” 

The two fell into quiet conversation, idle words to pass the time as the tall buildings of the city gave way to smaller, humbler homes dotting the landscape. Hushed greens gradually replaced the bleached yellows and grays, springing up in the corner of Chiara’s eyes as they slowly weaved through the path in front of her. 

She didn’t know how long they walked, but she couldn’t have known if she had tried to keep track, distracted by Isabella’s easy chatter as they made their way to a destination unknown to her.

Chiara barely saw Isabella stop thanks to that relaxed atmosphere, barely managing to halt with her when her words finally died down.

It was then that Chiara noticed the small violet blossoms at her feet, looking up and promptly losing her breath when she saw a sea of flowers in front of her. 

Ahead of her, a neverending stretch of soft reds, golds, violets and pinks lifted their heads, bathing in the silvery moonlight that carefully draped over them. The wind rolled through the fragile petals, coaxing out an ocean of color with gentle waves that lapped off into the distance. There was no blistering heat, no tensions born from family feuds here, only a peaceful tranquility that invited all who could find it. 

“How did you even find this?” Chiara asked, not daring to take her eyes off of the new sight splayed out for her to see. 

“By accident!” One hand came up to wave across the vast expanse ahead of them. “I was just looking for somewhere to think and ended up here. It’s beautiful though, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” 

Even Chiara didn’t know if she was talking about the field or the woman to her side when she answered. 

Isabella didn’t seem to notice though, only letting out a quiet laugh as she set off, looking behind her shoulder with a smile. “Here, I know a really nice spot!” 

And with that, she was gone, Chiara following after her without a second thought as they waded through the flowers that surrounded them. 

It didn’t take long before they reached the point where they were completely alone, the field stretching on in every direction around them with no buildings or houses anywhere to be seen. Even when she swiveled her head around, there was nothing but the gentle rustling of the petals to greet her. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before, far from the stone walls and busy streets of the city. 

“Do you like it?” 

Chiara’s head whipped back around to face Isabella, face quickly heating up when she noticed her amused smile. Before she could even say a word in her defense though, Isabella was already holding her hands up with a quiet chuckle. 

“It’s alright! I was like that too when I first came here.” Her eyes traveled across the land around them with a fond reverence. “I really thought I was dreaming when I saw this place. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many flowers in one place before!” 

Isabella’s warm gaze never faded once she turned to face Chiara and she had no idea how to deal with the sheer amount of affection directed at her. 

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” Chiara had to take a second to get her tongue to work properly again. “Yeah, it’s nice.” 

Isabella’s smile widened into a relieved grin. “Great! I was worried you would want to go back.” 

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” 

“I don’t know!” 

Chiara had to shake her head at her eager response, a brief smile pulling at her lips. Isabella seemed to catch it too, if the way her eyes lit up said anything. 

Before Chiara knew it, a hand was being held out in front of her. She glanced at it once before she stared at Isabella, waiting for the nonsensical explanation she knew was coming. 

“Will you dance with me?” 

That certainly checked out. 

“What?” 

The grin on Isabella’s face never died despite the fact that Chiara had yet to accept the hand that was now waving in front of her. “We should dance together! It’s such a beautiful night out and I always wanted to do something like this here!” 

“There’s no music, _idiota_.” Chiara crossed her arms, but she still eyed Isabella’s offered hand. 

“We don’t need music to dance!” Isabella pouted in a rather impressive attempt at looking like a begging puppy. “Come on, please?” 

Chiara couldn’t believe how far her standards had fallen when she sighed and took Isabella’s hand, even when her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest as she did so. “Fine.” 

Isabella’s head tossed back with a cheerful laugh as she pulled Chiara along, her other hand quickly swooping up to support her waist in her haphazard turning. “I didn’t think that would work!” 

“You’re really pushing your luck here,” Chiara snapped back, squeezing Isabella’s shoulder just tight enough to cause her to wince. Unfortunately, the bright red blush on her face and her fumbled attempts at matching Isabella’s unconventional waltz really didn’t seem to do much for her cause. 

"I know!” Isabella led Chiara in a messy circle, seemingly stepping at random despite her solid grip on her waist. “I’ll just have to keep that in mind.” 

“How’s that going to work?” Chiara finally managed to keep up with Isabella’s impromptu dance as she spun alongside her partner. “You can barely keep track of your own damn thoughts.” 

“That’s not-” Isabella quickly cut herself off, lips pursing for a moment before a sheepish grin slowly crept up onto her face. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am!” 

Isabella let out a giggle at her quick response and Chiara couldn’t stop her own laughter from escaping her. There was no way she would have allowed that to happen at any other time, but now, when she was wrapped up in Isabella’s arms and guided along without a care in a waltz for only them to enjoy, it only seemed natural to join in on her amusement. 

However, Chiara’s voice quickly jumped up an octave into a shriek when she found herself being dipped backwards, hands instinctively flying up to loop around Isabella’s neck.

“What the _fuck?_ ” 

Before she could even finish that thought, Chiara was pulled back up until she was face to face with a sparkling pair of green eyes. 

“Did I do it right? I’ve never tried that before!” 

“Then why’d you start now?!” 

Chiara’s yell seemed to have no effect on Isabella’s delight though as she continued their impromptu path through the flowers. “I just thought it would be fun!” 

“Tell me when you’re going to do it first!” Chiara shot back. “And move your hand up!” 

Isabella’s head tilted to the side, a confused look on her face as she stared back at Chiara. “Which hand?” 

Chiara paused. “You can’t be that dumb.” 

“Huh?” 

“Oh my god, you are.” 

Chiara let out a sigh as she let her hand fall from Isabella’s shoulder to grab her wrist, pulling it up from the small of her back to rest further up towards her shoulders. “Keep it there and don’t lean forward. And if you drop me, I’ll kill you.” 

“Got it!” The threat also seemed to do nothing to ruin Isabella’s good mood. “Can I try again?” 

Much to her dismay, Isabella’s enthusiasm seemed to be rubbing off on Chiara as well. “Only if you do it right.” 

Isabella practically lit up, already slowing down in preparation. “I will!” 

Rather than a sudden fall like the last time, Chiara found herself being lowered down carefully, the hand on her back keeping her in place and giving her enough time to balance herself before she was lifted back up. 

Even after she was back on her own feet, Isabella’s hand remained splayed out on the curve of her shoulders. 

“Was that better?” 

“Not by much.” 

That was a bold lie and Chiara knew it, but it didn’t seem to damper Isabella’s laughter once she started to lead their dance again. 

“Guess I have to keep practicing then!” 

If it had been anybody else, then Chiara wouldn’t have even agreed to show up in the first place, let alone dance in some field outside of the city. But with Isabella, who did nothing but laugh and pull her along in her unbridled eagerness, Chiara really couldn’t say no to whatever plan she had dreamed up. 

She barely had time to catch her breath before Isabella was sweeping her back up again, sending them both tumbling into a series of fumbled spins and dips that had them both flushed and laughing. 

It was the sort of carefree moment that Chiara never really got to have, and now that she had it, it was something she wasn’t keen on letting go. She kept her mind fixed on Isabella’s laugh, her messy twirls and strong hands pressed into her memory. 

Just as she had said, Isabella kept on guiding Chiara into dips that slowly became more fluid the longer they moved. Halting pauses and brief hesitations faded away, falling into the pace of their steps until Chiara was sweeping back and pulled back right into another turn in the blink of an eye. Isabella caught on quickly and Chiara nearly forgot that she had to teach her at all when she was meeting her joyful smile with her own. 

However, their dance couldn't last forever once their energy started to die down, leaving them both sore and panting once the rush of the night lifted the haze from their heads. It still did nothing to hinder the grins on their faces though once they finally slowed to a stop. 

“Sorry,” Isabella huffed out, “I think I got a little carried away.” 

Chiara snorted, although she was still heaving to catch her breath. “You call that a little?” 

Isabella whined, hands falling back to her sides. “I’m trying here!” 

“Try harder.” 

Isabella looked like she wanted to argue, but her exhaustion seemed to win over as she settled herself down on the ground with a sigh. When Chiara shot her a quizzical look, she patted the dirt next to her with an inviting smile. 

“You look tired too. Here, you can even see all the stars tonight if you sit down!”

That really shouldn’t have worked as well as it did, but it was all Chiara needed to come down with her, resting comfortably on the ground and allowing her head to raise to look up at the sky.

And the view that greeted her was so much more wonderful than anything she could have seen from her balcony. 

All around her was a deep navy blue stretched across the vast sky above, layered with hidden color that the heavy black quietly allowed to peek through. The moon was bright with the rays of the hidden sun, a beacon of silver that forced her attention to it before she looked out to see the clusters of stars embedded in the color above, dashes of light that twinkled playfully in the peace of the night. 

Chiara looked to her side, finally managing to recover from their dance only to find her mouth unable to open. 

Isabella had closed her eyes, face flushed and hands carrying her weight as she leaned back. She was surrounded by color, vibrant with such life and energy that suited her so naturally that Chiara realized that this was where she belonged: free and untamed to do as she pleased.

The field seemed to take Isabella in, the world settling itself to accommodate her until she became as vital to the picture before Chiara’s eyes as the sky or the flowers. It was here that Chiara saw who Isabella really was, who Verona had hidden away under the threat of death. 

And she was beautiful. 

Vivid green eyes slowly opened, taking in the sky above with a sigh. 

“You know,” Isabella murmured, gaze fixated on the stars. “The first time I came here, I didn’t think I would ever find someone to come with me.” 

She seemed to be seeing something that wasn’t there, a haze settling over her eyes as she spoke. 

“I didn’t think I could.” Her head fell to face Chiara and she was struck by how that warm smile melded into the flow of the flowers around her. “I still can’t really believe that you’re here. But I’m glad you are.” 

Chiara couldn’t believe it either, but those words silently tore away the veil this dream had granted her. Because once the sun rose, once the light threatened to uncover this secret she had tried so hard to keep hidden, Isabella would be gone and Chiara would be alone. She would be a Vargas once more and her world would become the house she lived in and the wedding that loomed over her. 

It scared her more than she could explain, the thought that she would wake up and Isabella would vanish, someone she didn’t want in her place. 

But looking at Isabella, who defied so much to see her, unrestrained and filled with life, Chiara finally let the weight that tried to crush her drop. 

“You’re an idiot,” Chiara finally answered, no hint of malice in her words. 

“Why am I an idiot this time?” Isabella’s face was relaxed, a calm amusement lacing her words that Chiara knew would be gone in a moment. 

“Because you’re a Carriedo,” Chiara mumbled, “and I’m getting married.” 

The smile was gone before she knew it, eyes wide with shock. Isabella opened her mouth and shut it a few times, struggling for an answer. 

“What?” 

Her voice was barely above a whisper and Chiara could see the despair growing on her face, the hint of betrayal that seemed to bleed from her heart. 

“I didn’t-” Isabella’s mouth snapped shut, trying to speak again with hesitance. “I didn’t know."

“Because I didn’t tell you.” 

Isabella seemed to be at a loss for words, her shoulders tensing as her eyes fell to the grass below them. “I’m sorry,” was what she settled on, speaking to the ground rather than Chiara. 

“I don’t care.” Chiara’s grip tightened on the rose in her hand, feeling the leftover ridges from where she had plucked the spikes. “I don’t care if you’re sorry.” 

Isabella looked distraught, but Chiara let the words flow from her mouth as soon as she could pry them out of her head to let them fall.

“It doesn't matter anyways.” 

Isabella’s gaze snapped back to her, confusion replacing the pain written so clearly on her face. 

“I’m not going to care because I don’t give a damn if I’m getting married.” 

Chiara felt the pressure that threatened to suffocate her finally vanish and she felt lighter than the air around them. 

“I don’t care because you’re an idiot and I’m going to make sure you don’t change that.”

Chiara had no choice but to wait as Isabella’s face went blank, shock lingering in her eyes. There was silence, one filled with a rush of thoughts that neither could fully translate. 

But slowly, past the storm of misery and uncertainty, Chiara could see hope, young and bold, in Isabella. 

With a pause before she continued, Isabella’s fingers trailed up to trace the line of Chiara’s cheek and she leaned into the warmth that the touch offered. That hand quietly grazed against her hair, brushing through long russet strands with care as they tucked what fell onto her face behind her ear. 

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Isabella was leaning in, close enough that Chiara could swear she could see the stars tangled in her eyes. 

“Do you promise?” 

Isabella’s voice was nearly swept away by the wind, but Chiara could hear it clearer than ever before. She didn't have to think before the answer came to her. 

“Yes.” 

The hand in her hair traveled down to her cheek, careful as ever as her thumb rubbed gentle circles into her skin. A brief smile was the last thing Chiara saw before Isabella closed the gap between them. 

Chiara could never hope to describe the way her heart burst in her chest, closing her eyes to lose herself completely in the way Isabella’s lips moved against her own, soft as the petals that surrounded them. 

She felt free for once, nothing left to hold her down but the way Isabella’s hand tangled itself in her hair, pressing her closer with a desperation that she matched. Chiara was pulled flush to Isabella’s chest, her own hand trailing down to the dip between her shoulders as the other came up to rest around her neck, refusing to break their connection. 

This was no longer a fantasy or a daydream that would fade away with time, but a reality that was wrapping a firm arm around her waist and tilting her head to chase her lips when they finally broke apart. 

When she opened her eyes, she saw a beaming smile and flushed cheeks in a disheveled fashion that she knew she mirrored. Isabella looked down at her with nothing but fondness before she let out a quiet laugh, her voice drowning such in a sweet tenderness that Chiara had to smile. 

“I thought you would have slapped me by now,” Isabella admitted, unbridled joy in her words as her fingers idly toyed with Chiara’s hair. 

“Do you want me to?” Chiara couldn’t seem to find the usual snap in her words, any hostility melting away with the gentle weaving of Isabella’s hand. 

“I’d be sad if you did,” Isabella replied with a grin, “but I wouldn’t stop you.” 

Chiara huffed quietly, although she allowed her hands to drape themselves over Isabella’s shoulders. “You really are an idiot.” 

“I am.” The arm wrapped around her waist quietly tugged her closer as Isabella carefully laid down among the flowers, pulling Chiara on top of her. “But that’s why I have you."

Isabella reached up to kiss her again and Chiara felt her hands roaming from her hair to splay across her back, running across the fabric of her dress ever so slowly. Chiara let her own hands quietly reach up to Isabella's face as her eyes fell shut again, trailing through thick locks and smoothing over her jaw, unable to stay in one place now that she had the freedom to explore as she pleased. 

It was unfamiliar territory for her, but Isabella did nothing but invite her to do as she pleased. Every so often, her grip would tighten and Chiara would be pressed into place with just enough pressure to make her breath hitch. But eventually, she would relax again until Chiara tilted her head a certain way or ran her hands down just slow enough to make those arms tense up again in a cycle they kept falling into.

Isabella's hands came to rest on the curve of her spine when they broke apart, looped easily around each other in order to hold her. Chiara's eyes opened for a brief moment, taking in how Isabella seemed so at home with the calm around her before she shifted down to rest her head on her chest. 

She could feel the gentle beat of her heart, rising and falling with her breathing as one hand came up to settle itself back in her hair, fingers curling through the strands slow enough to coax her back into a more relaxed state. 

Chiara felt a brief kiss being pressed to the top of her head and she smiled, the small gesture hidden away when she tucked her face away against Isabella's shirt. 

Far from Verona, with only the stars above and the flowers that hid them, Chiara felt her heart pulse with the kind of tender care that she never thought she would get to feel, feeling the proof that Isabella felt the same in soft touches and gentle kisses that she cherished each time they were gifted to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, this is the most tender and unorganized thing i've ever fuckin written and it's all thanks to my terrible sleep schedule and hozier. i write too much about hands and can't keep a consistent tone, now i'm gonna go take a nap  
> also completely forgot but [here's](https://qionow.tumblr.com/post/618438358652321792/above-the-city) a deleted gerita scene that takes place at the same time as this for anyone who wants some more fluff


	26. The Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Time seemed to be kind that night, slowing itself down to allow the two lovers laying together in the field just outside Verona to stay entwined for just a few moments longer. 

The wind swept through the flowers that blossomed around them, gently wrapping the pair up in a dreamy haze that left them curling up lazily around each other, a tangle of soft touches and hushed words. The moon peered down from above, much to the joy of the stars that spread themselves wide over the sky, illuminating the two who quietly took in each second as it passed by. 

No matter what they did though, time couldn’t be held back forever. 

“Monika’s going to hunt us down if we don’t move soon,” Isabella murmured, quietly stroking the head of dark russet hair that rested on her chest.

“Not with Marzia she won’t." Chiara didn't even bother to lift her face up from where it was hidden in Isabella's shirt.

She could feel the vibrations rumble under her ear when Isabella chuckled, closing her eyes to take it in. 

“You’re right.” Isabella's fingers curled around a stray lock of hair, teasing it out before she let it fall again. “But we still need to get you home.” 

“No.” 

Isabella gave a small huff of laughter, gently pushing Chiara’s face up to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll bring you back here some other night. How about that?” 

Chiara only let out a hum at Isabella’s bargain, slowly blinking a few times to pull the world back into focus. “Do you promise?”

Isabella smiled and Chiara felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of the unhidden affection that was all for her. 

“Of course.” 

Reluctantly, Chiara allowed Isabella to push herself up, rolling off of her ungracefully and accepting the hand that offered to help her up as well. But instead of letting go as Chiara expected, Isabella merely laced their fingers together in a light embrace, flashing her a grin when Chiara’s head whipped up to stare at her. 

Chiara really had no other choice but to allow her own hand to slowly curl around Isabella’s. 

Together, they walked through the field until the flowers gave way to a familiar dirt road back, pace unhurried as their interconnected hands gently swayed with the push of the wind between them. 

It was when the soil under their feet turned into a paved stone path did Chiara finally tense up, pulling her hand back ever so slightly in an instinctive response to entering Verona once more. Even though she tried her best to keep her accidental reaction small, Isabella still paused to look over her with a concerned frown. 

“Is something wrong?” she whispered, gaze flickering briefly over to the streets around them. 

“It’s nothing.” 

Chiara could already feel the disbelief radiating from Isabella. 

“I was just being stupid,” she finally added on. “About doing this in the street or whatever.” 

That was in no way, shape, or form a good explanation, but Isabella seemed to understand nonetheless as her expression softened.

“There’s nobody else here,” she hummed, lightly squeezing Chiara’s hand as she spoke. “And there won’t be anyone until the morning.” 

A wistful glaze seemed to settle itself over her eyes as she looked over the street one more time, her voice so quiet that Chiara had to lean in to catch her words. 

“Maybe we can come back when it's brighter though, if things change."

Isabella was all too easily filled with the kind of hope that was contagious, spreading itself ever so quietly until Chiara could almost see them walking in the crowd, hand in hand for all to see. 

Chiara had to wonder if the day would come where Isabella’s dream came true and they could have this conversation in the broad daylight, no second looks over their shoulders or hidden promises kept buried in the night. 

When she glanced up at Isabella, still lost in her own fantasy, Chiara couldn’t stop the rush of fondness that burst from her, running its way down her fingers until she was tugging Isabella’s hand. 

That snapped Isabella back out of her thoughts, shaking her head a few times before she looked down curiously. “Hmm?” 

Chiara didn’t bother to answer, only reaching up to press a brief kiss to her lips, hands running up to cup her face. 

It was over as soon as it began, but the risk behind such a small action ran deep for both of them. 

Isabella’s stared at her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted for a brief moment before they curled up into a grin and her hushed laughter was filling the air around them. As Chiara's own smile began to grow, she realized that it was a risk she was willing to take for her. 

She didn’t move her hand away again when they kept walking, lightly squeezing Isabella’s hand whenever she started to rub gentle circles onto the back of her wrist as they talked.

~~

The first thing Chiara saw when they made it back to the garden wall was Monika shaking her head while Marzia pressed a finger to her lips, the message received loud and clear by the time they were close enough to speak.

“Where’s your sister?” Chiara whispered, eyeing the street behind them with suspicion. 

“With Anneliese,” came Monika’s muttered response. “By the entrance, I think.” 

As if on cue, Julchen’s bold laughter cut through the street, slightly faded by the distance between them. After it died down, Chiara could hear clips of Anneliese’s words from roughly the same direction, much more reserved if not a little softer than usual.

“We’ll just have to be quiet then.” Isabella nodded to herself with a grin. “Shouldn’t be too hard.” 

“Mhm!” Marzia’s head bobbed up and down in a much more eager imitation of Isabella's action. “This was really fun! Can we do it again soon?” 

“ _Idiota_ ,” Chiara huffed, although the pleasant atmosphere certainly took the sting out of her insults. “Someone’s going to notice if you keep sneaking into my room at night.” 

“She’s right.” Monika eyed Chiara rather cautiously before continuing on. “It’ll be best if we wait a while before trying this again.”

“It’s better than nothing!” Isabella added, a hopeful smile on her face. 

“Oh, definitely!” Marzia seemed ready to ramble on about her night, but Monika’s quick hand over her mouth stopped that train of thought before it could crash. 

“It is, but you two still need to get back over,” Monika reminded them as Marzia squirmed under her palm. “I don’t know how long Julchen’s going to stay there.” 

“Anna’s going to want to go back in soon.” Chiara gave her sister a pointed stare after she glanced up at the night sky. “Which means _you_ need to get back to your room before she does.” 

Marzia blinked once, then twice before she gasped. 

“You’re right!” She frantically turned back to Monika, nearly whipping herself with her hair as she did so. “Can you help me up?” 

Marzia was already off by the time Monika could catch her, barely managing to grab her in time to lift her up. 

“Why do you never know how to wait?” Monika huffed, quickly adjusting her grip on her waist so Marzia could reach the edge more comfortably.

“I did wait!” 

“Please tell me you're not being serious.” 

Monika jumped up to climb over herself, vanishing over to the other side with Marzia with the last of her exhausted reprimands following close behind.

Isabella eyed the spot where the two had just been for a second before she nodded to herself with a smile. “They make a good pair."

“Marzia could do better,” Chiara huffed back. Unfortunately, Isabella only seeming to take even more delight in her annoyance, much to her displeasure. 

“Isn't it better for her to be with Monika instead of someone worse then?” 

Silence. 

“Shut up and get me over the damn wall.” 

Chiara could practically feel the pride radiating from Isabella when she carefully hoisted her up, refusing to look back at her until she was safe in the garden. 

However, she quickly had to rub her eyes when she saw Marzia leaning over the balcony, Monika waiting just under it as they shared a hushed conversation in a surreal moment of déjà vu. 

“Did we look that stupid when we did that?” Chiara whispered as Isabella dropped down beside her. 

Isabella studied the scene in front of them for a moment before she shrugged back. “I know I did. You looked beautiful though.” 

Chiara rolled her eyes and lightly slapped Isabella’s arm. “I was crying, _idiota_.” 

“But you were so sweet!” Isabella whined back, earning only a roll of the eyes before Chiara made her way back to the balcony. 

It wasn't much of a surprise when as soon as she got close, Monika and Marzia both silenced themselves, whatever they were discussing quickly abandoned. 

“You two done?” Chiara didn’t wait for an answer before she brushed past Monika to catch the rope that loosely swung with each passing gust of wind. 

“Mhm!” Marzia nodded happily as Chiara climbed over the edge and leaned down to start untying the knotted fabrics. “I was just telling her that she should come back next week!” 

Chiara only snorted as she pulled the rope back up, letting it pile onto the floor ungracefully. “I’m sure you were.” 

The fact that Chiara could see Monika’s face turn bright red even from the balcony definitely didn't help Marzia's excuse. 

“Don’t be so mean!” Isabella called out, a broad grin on her face as she made her way next to Monika. “Let them have their fun!”

“Yeah!” Marzia was quick to agree with her new supporter, although that did little to change Chiara's mind.

“You shut up,” she instructed, pointing a finger up at Marzia before she turned to Isabella, “and you get the hell out of here.”

Isabella's face already started to form a pout, but Monika was quick to interrupt before she could get a word out. 

“It’s about time we left,” she said quietly, although her words certainly come out much more quickly than usual. “We’ll be back soon either way.”

Isabella brightened up with that reminder, any previous signs of discontent gone in an instant. “Yeah, that's right!”

Monika sighed, making her way back as she briefly brought her hand up to rub at her temples. “Have a good night,” she finally called back quietly, “and write to Sister Marianne if anything happens that you need us to know.” 

“We will!” Marzia replied with a cheerful whisper, waving as fast as she could while she leaned over the edge of the balcony. “Sleep well!” 

Isabella ambled back in a far less rushed pace, walking backwards as Monika jumped up to wait on top of the wall. “You too! We'll try to see if we can get you out for longer next time!”

"Stalling for time now isn't going to help you!"

Isabella only laughed at Chiara's quick response, joy written all over her face in such an open expression that Chiara had to roll her eyes.

She struggled slightly as she jumped up, fumbling for a grip for a moment before she could get herself up. Once she was steady enough though, Isabella quickly looked back up to wave back at them, elbowing Monika until she reluctantly followed suit. Marzia returned the gesture with double the energy they gave, but Chiara only brought her hand up in a dismissive curl of her wrist before she bent down to pick up the knotted fabrics, shuffling them into one larger pile. 

A shrill shriek and the sound of something too heavy hitting the ground forced Chiara’s head to whip up though, her own voice ripping out of her throat before she could stop it. 

“ _Isabella!_ ” 

They both slapped their hands over their mouths, eyes wide with panic; Isabella sprawled out on the ground and Chiara frozen on the balcony.

The conversation by the entrance to the estate stopped and Chiara’s blood ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have returned with more mediocre content and not nearly enough motivation to edit it properly. thought i deleted this chapter for a moment and i completely lost all will to write until i found it again so that was Very Fun


	27. Temperament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Anneliese found a certain pleasure in strolling down the streets of Verona at night, hands clasped behind her back as she took in the comfortable silence around her. 

It wasn’t often that she got the chance to indulge in the sight of the city without a cautious grip on the hilt of her sword. Her job required a keen attention to detail that she didn’t dare to ignore, especially with the tension that had been growing ever so slowly as the days passed by. 

But now, she mused with a quiet sigh, she was free to do as she pleased. 

Anneliese had managed to walk around a good part of the city before she decided to make her way back, no disturbances to catch her eye and no possible attackers waiting behind the corner. 

It wasn’t long before she found herself back down the familiar street leading to the Vargas estate, looping around the house and passing by the garden to enjoy just a few more moments of the pleasant summer weather. 

Unfortunately for her, the displeasure that she had tried so hard to avoid came back in full force when she passed the wall that separated the garden from the street. 

“Do you really have nothing better to do than loiter around here?” 

A pair of scarlet eyes snapped open and promptly narrowed with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh, I do.” Julchen pushed herself off of the wall to stand in the middle of the street, arms hanging lazily at her sides. “But this is much more fun.” 

Anneliese could already feel the grimace forming on her face as she muttered to herself. “I swear you have the mind of a child.” 

“I just know how to have a good time!” Julchen’s shoulders shook with the force of her laughter, hands coming to plant themselves on her hips. “Do you even know what that is?” 

If it had been any other night, Anneliese would have simply ignored her and kept walking to avoid the migraine on legs that was Julchen. But, there was a certain levity in the air that Anneliese loathed to admit wasn't unwelcome, something that persuaded her to entertain Julchen’s antics if only for a little while. 

“I know what entertainment is,” she finally answered, allowing her hands to slowly disconnect from behind her back as she kept her eyes fixed on Julchen. “But I also know what _you_ consider to be entertainment.” 

In a flash, her sword was out and aimed at Julchen’s chest. 

There was a pause in the conversation, a brief moment of silence before it was shattered by a roar of laughter. 

“Someone’s feeling a little adventurous tonight, huh?” Julchen cackled, voice mocking although a flash of sheer joy flickered through her eyes. “Didn’t think you had it in you!” 

“I just want to get this over with so I can go home.” Anneliese studied Julchen carefully for any signs that she might try something. “I know you won’t let me leave until I do.” 

“What a coincidence!” Julchen crowed. “I was feeling a little generous today!” 

With a lazy swing of her arm, Julchen drew her own sword, the blade dipping towards the ground to rest. 

“But, if you insist, who am I to stop you?” 

Anneliese caught the quick gleam of silver in the moonlight and snapped her arm up just in time to catch Julchen’s blow, the crash of metal ringing in her ears. She felt the rush of adrenaline guide her hand as she pushed Julchen back and swung at her side. 

It truly was a beautiful night and Anneliese intended to enjoy it to the fullest. 

Julchen seemed to throw herself into the fight as usual, a chaotic whirlwind of quick steps and brisk feints that forced Anneliese to match her agile pace. She had no choice but to break her controlled form, taking on Julchen’s unorthodox movements as they circled one another. 

But as she twisted herself to avoid a swipe to her chest, Anneliese couldn’t help but try out Julchen’s lawless style for herself. 

Julchen sprung back, eyes wide when Anneliese’s blade nearly cut her cheek. 

“I thought you were the one who liked a proper fight!” Her platinum hair splayed out in a flurry as her arm became a blur in an attempt to deflect Anneliese’s jabs. 

“Of course I do.” Anneliese ducked when Julchen’s sword came for her face and returned the favor with a swing to her thigh. “But you’re really a terrible influence.” 

Julchen’s grin turned dangerous as she darted to the side and brought her arm down with enough force to make Anneliese stumble when she deflected the blow. 

“Careful there, Annie! I just might swoon with all that praise!” 

Julchen seemed to let loose after their exchange and Anneliese found that ever so gradually, she was too. 

Gone was the tense waiting, the careful scrutiny in anticipation of the next strike. Everything moved so quickly that Anneliese found herself swept up in the rush of the battle, instinct pushing itself to the forefront with every action. 

She jumped and met Julchen’s hazardous strikes with the same amount of energy, the two darting their way down the street with the clashing beat of the metal to guide them. 

Anneliese had never had fought wildly enough before to have to keep shoving her hair back, but it was a small action that she could tell Julchen had experience with. 

She lashed out in a wide arc from shoulder to shoulder, forcing Julchen back for only a second before she had to block another strike again, barely managing to brush the locks that fell in front of her eyes in time.

It was nothing she couldn’t solve with practice. 

Time flew by, each moment darting by with a swing of her hand. Her arms were growing sore with the frantic movements, but Anneliese didn’t dare to slow their pace down. 

Julchen didn’t seem to be affected in the slightest though, still recklessly throwing herself at Anneliese with enough power to nearly topple her over. 

When Anneliese managed to catch Julchen’s blade with her own over her head, a brief smirk was her only warning before she felt her feet being swept out from under her.

Her sword fell with a clatter off to the side as she hit the ground, her chest heaving with her desperate attempts to catch her breath. She barely managed to get to her knees when the point of Julchen’s sword flicked out to stop her, aimed at the center of her ribs. 

Anneliese glanced to the side to see if she could reach her weapon, but the dangerous edge resting just over her chest slowly traveled up to her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet a pair of scarlet eyes. 

The tip of Julchen’s sword pressed against her neck with just enough pressure that Anneliese was sure it would break the skin. But Julchen made no movement to draw blood, only studying her as silence finally settled over the clamor of their fight. 

Anneliese had to keep her head up when Julchen’s blade trailed back to the tip of her chin, keeping her in place until she could do nothing but wait. 

“You know,” Julchen hummed, “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” 

A wicked smirk slowly grew on her face. 

“And I’m feeling pretty flattered right now.” 

“Like your ego needs it.” Anneliese couldn’t seem to find the right snap to her words as they came out of her mouth, still trying to catch her breath. 

Julchen chuckled, leaning down with pride scrawled all over her confident face. “Still talking back? Looks like the princess has some bite after all.” 

The edge of her sword trailed up to her cheek, pausing for a moment before it was retracted back to the sheath on her hip. In its place, an outstretched hand was offered. 

Julchen burst out into laughter when Anneliese just stared at her hand. “What, I can’t be nice now?” 

“You never are,” Anneliese shot back, eyeing Julchen for a moment before she finally took her hand. Julchen kept a firm grasp on her as she pulled her up, almost hard enough to yank her forward. 

“Looks like you’re a bad influence on me too.” 

Anneliese rolled her eyes, but quickly bent down to retrieve her sword, sheathing it as well before she turned to face Julchen once more. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised that you would call manners a bad influence.” Anneliese brushed her hair back one final time, letting out a heavy sigh only to realize that Julchen was still there. “Aren’t you going to make another dramatic exit?” 

“But there’s nothing else to do!” Julchen groaned, one arm coming up to lazily wave her off. “I’ll just keep bothering you.” 

Anneliese eyed her for any signs of a mischievous undertone to her words, but only found a relaxed smirk shot back at her. While it wasn’t how she planned for her night to go, there were certainly worse things that could happen. 

“Then hurry up.” Anneliese was already walking down the street as she answered, peering over her shoulder when Julchen lingered behind. “I’m not waiting for you.” 

She didn’t have to keep looking to know that a broad grin was plastered onto Julchen’s face as she hurried to catch up. 

“You’re really spoiling me tonight, Annie,” Julchen cooed, falling into an easy pace by her side. “Trying to copy me _and_ letting me walk you home? That’s just too much for my little heart!” 

Anneliese sighed, hands comfortably linking themselves behind her back once more. “Are you really going to keep bringing that up?” 

“Of course I am!” Julchen almost seemed offended by the question. “You fight by the book like all the time!” 

“Perhaps I just wanted to try something new,” Anneliese mused. “You could certainly use a little more structure in your technique.” 

“That’s your thing.” Julchen was quick to dismiss her critique with a scoff. “You just bottle everything up and take all the fun out of fighting!” 

“Like your recklessness is any better.” 

“I’ve beaten you twice now!” 

“That doesn’t matter.” 

Anneliese felt her face flush when Julchen cackled at her side, her fingers tightening their grip on her wrists and regretting letting that too-quick response escape her before she could catch it. 

“Nah, you’re right,” Julchen finally managed to get out. “I don’t think anyone else can put up a good attempt like that.” 

“You do know that compliments are fairly meaningless if they’re not true, right?” 

“Not true?” 

Anneliese paused when she saw the disbelief on Julchen’s face. 

“You’re like one of the strongest people I know!” Anneliese nearly stumbled over herself when Julchen jumped in front of her. “Yeah, you’re pretty stiff, but you're a hell of a lot better than anyone else here!” 

Julchen effectively stopped her from moving anywhere else as she spoke, much to Anneliese's horror. 

“You know how to handle yourself in a fight and I _know_ you can kick ass when you want to! It’s like you’re two different people when you actually try to have a little fun with it, but you’re still pretty damn strong either way!”

Anneliese could have sworn that her eyes seemed to soften for just a moment before they found their usual hard glint. 

“Couldn’t have asked for a better rival myself.” 

Something about the way Julchen said that simple phrase had Anneliese’s heart briefly skip a beat, leaving her breathless for just a moment before she could recover herself. 

It really was odd how their relationship always seemed to twist and turn right in front of Anneliese’s eyes, never allowing itself to be defined no matter how she tried to look at it. Perhaps that was because Julchen herself was too much of a wild card to be labeled as well. 

How she tried to name it didn’t matter in the end since Anneliese still felt the first hint of pride slowly ruffling itself up at Julchen’s words. She never would have guessed that they would have meant so much at all. 

“I suppose you are a decent rival as well.” 

But it was a change she was willing to accept. 

Julchen grinned and Anneliese knew she found the praise laced in her mediocre compliment. 

“I’m honored.” Julchen said, a hint of sincerity darting in and out of her voice. 

There was a brief pause as Julchen's face melted into something contemplative before a broad smile curved up at her lips. 

“Hey, did I ever tell you about the time some kid tried to challenge me in the middle of the street?”

Just like that, Julchen’s overflowing ego was back in full force, exactly as Anneliese remembered it.

She only shook her head, listening patiently as Julchen rambled on about her tale with the occasional snide comment to add here and there. It really wasn’t how she had planned to spend her night at all, but she found that she didn’t quite mind. 

She allowed herself to relax for once, Julchen chattering at her side and enjoying the pleasant air around them. Anneliese simply took in what was going on around her with her companion at her side, closing her eyes for a brief moment to take in the scene around her. 

They snapped open when she heard a dull thud off in the distance. 

“ _Isabella!_ ” 

Julchen’s mouth quickly shut itself as Anneliese whipped her head back towards the garden.

“You’ll have to tell me the rest later,” she rushed out, already making her way to the entrance of the estate. “I’ll see you another night.” 

“Hold on!” 

Anneliese stumbled when Julchen grabbed her arm, pulling her back with a too-wide grin. 

“Let me finish this bit!” Julchen said cheerfully, grip tight enough to sting. “Thought it was rude to walk out in the middle of a conversation!” 

“You can tell me some other time, but I really need to leave _now_ ,” Anneliese repeated, yanking her arm back. 

“Just wait! Wait!” Anneliese nearly hit the ground at the speed with which Julchen tried to tug her. “It’ll just take a minute! I’m sure you got guards all over that house! They’ll be fine without you!” 

Anneliese felt her irritation spark up as she pried Julchen’s hand off again. “You know it’s my job to-” 

And then she saw the desperation in Julchen’s eyes. 

It took Anneliese a moment to understand what was going on, just what Julchen was trying to accomplish. 

“You’re lying.” 

Julchen’s grin vanished. 

“What?” 

“You’re lying to me.” 

And Anneliese finally understood why Julchen was so eager to see her tonight. 

“They sent you out here to distract me.” 

Her voice was as calm as she could get it to be because she knew that the second it broke, she would break with it. 

Julchen, on the other hand, had her horror on full display as ruby eyes widened with panic. 

“No!” she rushed out, darting back in front of Anneliese. “Annie, just let me explain-” 

“Those two are in the garden and they sent you here to stop me from finding out.” 

For a brief moment, hesitation flickered across Julchen’s face and Anneliese knew her answer. 

“Listen-” 

“Get out of my way.” 

Julchen didn’t move, a pleading look on her face as she stood her ground. “Annie-” 

_“I said get out of my way_!” 

She barely registered raising her voice or bringing her arm up, but when she looked down, Julchen was on the ground, staring at her with wide eyes. But that didn’t matter because that lock she held over her emotions burst open and just the smallest drop of acidic betrayal was more than enough to fuel her until she thought she would burn herself alive with the sheer rage that tore through her.

“This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it?” 

“Annie-” 

“Keep me out of the picture for a few nights so they could have a good time?” 

“I-” 

“You even went so far as to try and gain my _trust_.” 

“No!” 

Julchen scrambled up, frantically reaching for Anneliese’s arms. “No, Annie, that’s not what happened, you gotta believe me!” 

“Oh, I have to believe you?” Anneliese knew her voice was growing, but there was nothing she could do to stop it when all she could see in front of her was red, red, _red_. “ _I_ have to believe _you_?” 

She shoved Julchen back as hard as she could, tearing forward after her when she stumbled back. 

“You follow me around, pretend that you want to befriend me, and you want _me_ to believe _you?_ ” 

Julchen's mouth opened and snapped back shut and Anneliese saw the moment her blind panic twisted into a seething rage that clawed at her from the inside out, into something familiar that Anneliese could feel tearing apart her own head.

"Oh, so since you don't want to _listen_ , that makes me the bad guy?"

“There’s nothing to listen to since you insist on lying!” Anneliese didn’t falter when Julchen strode forward to meet her. “Just get out!” 

“No, I wanna hear this,” Julchen snapped. “What did I do wrong? Tell me! Go on!” 

“I said get out!” 

“Tell me!” 

“ _Move, Julchen!_ ” 

Julchen’s head snapped to the side when the steel edge of Anneliese’s blade carved a line down her cheek, the boiling red that boiled up inside of her finally bursting forward with a swing of her arm. 

Anneliese saw Julchen briefly bring her hand up to press against the wound, but she didn’t bother to stay long enough to watch the rest of her reaction play out. The hilt of her sword slammed into Julchen’s chest, forcing her out of the way as Anneliese sprinted back to the entrance. 

Her heart was pounding in her head and her chest was threatening to rip itself apart because of course Julchen’s loyalties were with her friends, of course she would do what she could to help them, especially if she got to cross someone like Anneliese on the way.

The door was torn open as she made her way straight for Chiara’s room, where she knew the source of Julchen’s sudden affability was born.

Anneliese could barely breathe, vision blurring at the edges as she made her way down the fuzzy hallway ahead of her. Everything was moving too fast, too slow, too _much_ for her to handle. 

Julchen was clever enough to layer up her true intentions with friendly words and kind gestures, enough of a trickster to know just how to twist at Anneliese's heart to get what she wanted. Deep in her mind, she knew Julchen was lying, knew that none of it was real and that she had been foolish enough to think that it was. 

But that bitter pang of betrayal only threatened to suffocate Anneliese when she realized that with all of Julchen’s lies, she had never once lied back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back to your reminder that this fic is still an adaptation of the tragedy of romeo and juliet! i've spoiled myself with fluff for too long. now it's time to get into the Real Pain :)


	28. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> The Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)
> 
> Translations:  
> Bambina viziata - Spoiled child

Time had a strange way of moving that night. 

With the evening, it had crawled by ever so lazily as Chiara laid in Isabella’s arms, allowing the two to indulge in an everlasting moment of peace. Ever so eager, it picked itself back up when they were reunited with Monika and Marzia at the wall, laughing along with them as they drew up plans for their next meeting in a love-struck haze. 

But now, it froze entirely, stopping the world with it until all Chiara could do was stare at Isabella, sprawled out on the ground with a hand clapped over her mouth. 

It was too late to take back her voice, too late to catch Isabella before she fell, too late to stop time before they could make a mistake. 

“Isabella! Get up!” 

“I’m trying!” 

“Oh, oh no, oh my _God-_.” 

“Hurry up and _move_!” 

“Just give me a hand up!” 

Her head was stuffed with cotton, blurring the world around her as until each moment felt delayed, as if she were still a few seconds behind the passage of time. Chiara looked around, but there was just no connection between what she was seeing and what was happening. She existed alone in a temporary void for a brief moment before she glanced at her feet and saw the crude rope piled up at her feet. 

And then she was thrown back into the frenzy with everyone else. 

“ _Merda_!” 

Chiara rushed to gather up the fabric in her arms, any hopes of organization lost as the fabric knotted and tangled itself up. 

“Marzia!” 

A quick glance up confirmed that Marzia was too lost in her own panic to have heard her, breaths coming out in harsh gasps as she stared uselessly at Monika’s desperate attempts to get Isabella back over the wall. With a growl, Chiara yanked Marzia’s hand down until she was forced to snap her attention over to her. 

“Help me pick this up, dammit!” 

That seemed to get Marzia back into action, although her eyes were still glazed over and far too wide to be calm. She quickly dropped down to help gather the rope up, forced to repeat the action when the tremor in her hands made her drop what little she had. 

Chiara risked a glance down and saw Monika reaching down to pull Isabella up, the two exchanging hurried words and rushed gestures until Isabella managed to clamber her way up. Once she did though, Isabella whipped her head back around to face Chiara with a worried look on her face. 

“Are you goin-” 

“Hurry up and get the hell out of here! Both of you!” 

Isabella's gaze darted back and forth between the balcony and the bedroom door, visibly tensing the longer she waited.

“But-” 

“ _Run goddamnit_!” 

Chiara vaguely saw Monika try to tug her down, but soon found the rest of the rope in her arms and sprinted back to her room instead, leaving Marzia behind as she shoved it under her bed, cramming what stuck out back inside with her hand and only managing to dart back up when the door to her room slammed open. 

Chiara had seen Annaliese angry, but she had never seen her look as livid as she did at that moment. 

Anneliese’s eyes snapped to her, but she quickly directed her narrowed gaze to something behind her that Chiara prayed was Marzia. 

The sound of a frantic “Wait! _”_ and the uncoordinated thuds of boots fleeing down the street were quick to tear apart that little hope.

They were too late, time was moving too fast, and there was nothing Chiara could do to stop it now. 

There was a moment of silence as Anneliese stood in the doorway, face flushed and chest heaving as she looked between the two sisters with what Chiara could only describe as pure rage. 

“Those two-” 

Marzia burst into tears the second Anneliese opened her mouth, heavy sobs that greedily ate up what little air she was taking in. That alone was enough to tear apart the moment of tension as Anneliese sprung into action.

Before Chiara could even think to speak, she had darted into the room and snagged both of their wrists with an iron grip, dragging them out into the hallway in the blink of an eye.

“ _Lady Vargas_!” 

“ _No_!” 

Chiara struggled, twisting her body to get out of Anneliese’s grip so violently that she thought she could have sworn she heard her arm snap. But no matter how hard she tried, Anneliese kept on pressing down the hall. 

“Wake up!” 

“Shut up! Just shut the hell up and let me go, you fucking bastard!” 

Chiara wasn’t sure if her heart was beating too fast or too slow anymore, the sheer panic tearing through her mind until she was consumed with the desperate need to run, run, _run_ because God this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, it wasn’t supposed to end like this, this shouldn’t be happening-

“Lady Vargas, get up!” 

Anneliese’s roar and Marzia’s sobs tore down the empty hall and Chiara couldn’t do anything to get them to shut up, to stop talking and be quiet- 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

When did it get so cold? It had been so warm out in the field. Why was she still sweating now-

“ _Octavia!_ ” 

She was going to die, her heart was racing so fast, she was going to die and it was all crashing down and God she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe- 

“What on earth is going on?” 

A faint circle of light slowly floated down the hall until Chiara could make out Elizabeta’s worried face as she carried a torch with her, Octavia ambling by at her side as she let out a heavy yawn. 

Chiara felt the noose tighten around her neck at the sight of her mother and the raw instinct to escape took over her as she snarled and clawed at Anneliese’s arm, digging her nails in and drawing blood to no avail. 

She had never feared death, but now it truly felt like she was walking out her final moments as Octavia got closer, trapped like a hunted animal as the light of the torch got close enough to finally reveal everything she had tried so hard to keep secret. 

“Anna?” Octavia mumbled, blinking away the last of her sleepy haze. “What happened?” 

“Ask these two.” Anneliese’s voice came out in a vicious snarl, too cruel for her usually calm demeanor. “And see if they can explain why their _lovers_ were in the garden.” 

Elizabeta's shoulders tensed as her eyes frantically darted between them, unseen to Octavia as she stared at them both with a confused frown. 

“What lovers?” 

“Anna!”

Marzia finally seemed to be able to capture her voice, choked with tears as they streamed down her flushed face. She was staring at Anneliese with all of the hopeless frenzy of someone on their deathbed, pleading with no expectation of a happy ending. 

“Please, please, please,” she mumbled, “Please, you promised Anna, you promised you wouldn’t tell, you _promised,_ please.” 

Chiara saw the slightest flicker of hesitation dart across Anneliese’s face before it hardened into a determined fury, something that only studied Marzia with a cold gaze before it turned back to Octavia. 

“Isabella Carriedo and Monika Beilschmidt.” 

With each name, Anneliese pulled forward each of the sisters in an unspoken explanation, drawing the lines clear enough for all to see. 

Chiara relished in the pause Octavia took, the precious few seconds she had before her mother realized what those names meant. But that moment was soon over as she looked over Anneliese with a hard set to her face. 

“Carriedo?” 

“And Beilschmidt.” 

Octavia brought a hand up to her temple with a deep sigh, and once she dropped that hand, Chiara could see the start of her mother’s temper rising. 

“You-” 

Octavia’s words lost her grasp for a moment, forcing her to stop and look up at the ceiling with a groan before she could face her daughters again. 

“What the hell were you two thinking?” 

“Please, Lady Vargas.” Elizabeta tried to step between the two, voice high with desperation. “Think about wh-” 

“Oh, I’ve thought about it!” 

Marzia ducked her head, curling into herself as much as she could when Octavia turned onto her. 

“You, you’re smarter than this! You know who that girl chooses to hang around with!” 

But Chiara, she had no choice but to meet the full strength of Octavia’s anger head-on when she snapped her head around to face her. 

“And you!” 

Octavia stalked forward and Chiara struggled in one last-ditch effort to escape, because just maybe if she ran fast enough, she could make it back down the balcony, she could run away, she could find Isabella and escape back to that neverending field. 

She knew it would never happen. 

“Chiara, you’re getting married! Do you know how much I’m going to have to explain to Brunhilde if she finds out about this?” 

“I don’t care!” Chiara’s voice came out in a shrill scream, panic bleeding into rage in a border too blurry for her to understand. “I don’t give a damn if I’m getting married! You never even fucking asked me if I wanted to!” 

“Because I had _no choice_!” Octavia’s volume gradually rose to match Chiara's own, leaving behind a booming echo that bounced throughout the halls with each word. “I do my best to help you and you run off with the sister of that _bambina viziata_!” 

“Oh, you had no choice? You want to talk to me about not having a fucking choice?” Chiara snapped back. “I’m the one getting sold off to some bastard I don't even know and _you_ don’t have a choice?” 

Octavia's lips quickly curled down into a deep scowl. 

“Do you think I want to marry you off? Do you think this makes me _happy_?” 

“You seem pretty damn happy with Sanem around!” 

It was all thanks to the pure adrenaline rushing through her body that Chiara managed to meet Octavia’s glare when she stepped forward to loom over her, craning her head up without once daring to look away. 

“Sanem is here because _Andrea_ is here! Did you think about that? All this fighting didn’t exist before she arrived! In fact, if she wasn’t here, you wouldn’t even _need_ someone like Sanem around! You want to go on about how this is all my fault, and then you run off with the _reason_ you’re getting married? What were you thinking?”

“How’s that my fucking fault? You don’t know how to get along and handle your own goddamn jealousy and that’s my fault? What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Chiara was barely even thinking, her tongue lashing out before she could even process what was going on, filled with the frenzied rage that burst from the rush of terror deep in her chest. It still wasn’t enough to stop her throat from tightening when her mother’s face darkened at her accusation, although whatever she could answer with was quickly interrupted. 

“The three of them have all been causing us more trouble than we need,” Anneliese said curtly, a faux calm in her words that just barely managed to touch the border of being civil. “If you allow me to, I am more than capable of disposing of them in the morning."

“What?” 

Chiara’s gaze snapped to Anneliese, the boiling rush of her nerves slowly freezing over into a cold dread.

“Please, think about what you’re doing, both of you!” 

Elizabeta finally managed to get a word in, stepping between Octavia and Anneliese as she frantically looked between the two. 

“The Queen would have all of our heads if we hurt her daughters! This is not something we can handle lightly! Please, let’s just wait for the morning, at least. We all need time to think right now.” 

Octavia’s face dropped as she sighed, massaging her temples with one hand. There was a resignation in her posture, offering the slightest spark of hope for Chiara until she looked back up at Anneliese. 

“She’s right. Getting rid of all of them is too risky,” Octavia huffed out begrudgingly. There was a pause as she contemplated her next action before her eyes steeled themselves once more. 

“Leave the Beilschmidts alone. Do what you want with Isabella.” 

And Chiara’s heart stopped.

“ _No!"_

She could vaguely hear Marzia's sobbing and Elizabeta’s last-ditch attempts to get Octavia to reconsider, but she knew that her sentence was set in stone now. 

And there was nothing she could do to change it. 

Octavia looked over the two with a weary sigh before motioning them aside. “Put them back in their rooms, Anna. We’ll talk about this later.” 

“Understood.” 

Chiara was distantly aware of her own tears streaming down her cheeks, unable to stop her mouth from muttering as she was dragged back by Anneliese’s firm hand, watching the distraught form of Elizabeta and the exhausted slouch of her mother slowly fade away with the last of the light.

“No, no, no, no-” 

( _Why would I be mad at you?)_

“You can’t! You can’t, you can’t, Anna you can’t do this!” 

( _It seems like I’ve been forgetting all my manners today!)_

“ _Mamma_! Anna, let go of me! _Mamma,_ please!” 

( _Carriedo or not, I would never leave you if you needed me.)_

“Listen to me, goddammit! Why the fuck do you all never listen?” 

( _I promise.)_

“ _It’s not fair_!” 

Chiara didn’t get a response when she was thrown back into her room, only catching a glimpse of Marzia’s teary eyes and Anneliese’s harsh glare before the door slammed shut in her face. 

Her hands tore at her hair as she finally screamed, voice ripping from her throat in an attempt to get that neverending flame of despair out. 

It was too quiet. 

It wasn't supposed to be this quiet. She should be hearing Isabella's eager compliments and Marzia's airy laugh out in the garden, but with nobody there to fill the void they left behind, she was forced to patch it up herself. Her vision was blurring with her tears and she wasn’t even sure if she was saying anything, but it didn’t matter because God, she fucked it up and there was no way to take it back now. 

The calm of the night was torn apart by her desperate sobs, but this time, there was no hidden lover waiting under the balcony to comfort her. 

~~

Anneliese tore through her desk, slamming open drawers and hastily searching through them before they were shoved back into place. 

Half-finished letters and blank sheets fell to the floor, disregarded in her frantic search as she dug through her work until finally, tucked away ever so carefully in the bottom of the last drawer, a pearly white masquerade mask lay under a cover of papers. 

She was quick to snatch it out, pushing the papers out of the way with a hissed curse before it gave way and snapped out of the drawer. 

It was exactly the kind of reckless behavior she detested, but after holding herself back for so long, the need for release grew too overwhelming for her to ignore. 

The mask dropped to the floor with a clatter, but once Anneliese looked down and saw the silvery shine of the jewels in the light, she hesitated. 

She could remember the night that gift was given to her ever so clearly, the rushed waltz and mocking banter all granted under the cover of that mask. They were still fond memories and a part of her was selfish enough to try and keep them to herself, no matter how much they stung to recall now. For a moment, Anneliese was tempted to pick the mask back up, hide it back in her desk and leave the drawer locked shut until she forgot it even existed in the first place. 

It was pitiful, how far she had fallen. 

Anneliese let out a strangled yell, turning around and kicking at the floor. 

It hurt, it _hurt_ , but she was the one who believed every word Julchen said, who took the bait with blind trust. She had nothing to blame but her own weaknesses and that was enough for her to spin back around to face the source of her defeat. 

Her head was aching and her shame tore at her chest until she was blinded by the pain, by the need to prove that she could, _had_ , to do better.

She would never let herself be that weak again.

With the final wave of Anneliese’s rage, Julchen’s mask cracked in two under her foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha time to throw in the dysfunctional family dynamics this story deserves! everybody's technically right but boy is the execution they're all going for horrible!


	29. Liquid Mercury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Isabella had never looked over her shoulder so many times in her life as she made her way through the square, pushing through the dying crowd of the morning rush as best she could. 

She had yet to see Julchen or Monika since their frenzied separation and a few questions for both Andrea and the servants at the Beilschmidt’s castle quickly revealed that they had both been missing since the night before. While the people she asked didn’t know the context behind their absences, Isabella certainly did, and it only served to make her all the more anxious to find them. 

If she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t really remember what happened that night; panicked yelling and the harsh scrape of stone against her palms all fumbling together into one blurry escape attempt. Everything seemed to melt together into one terrifying mess that she could barely start to untangle, but there were still just a few brief moments that she could pick out from her knotted recollections.

Monika’s frantic grab for her hand as she leaned down from the wall, Chiara’s too-sudden scream and Marzia’s heaving gasps for air all stood out from the messy scene in her head. For a moment, she could have sworn that she saw Julchen on the street after she dropped down to the other side of the wall, but her focus was already torn to shreds by that point and even she was doubtful of her own memory concerning anything after her fall.

Alone, there would be no hope of connecting the missing pieces together, but with the other two who were there that night, that slight chance seemed just a little more optimistic. That sentiment was enough to drive Isabella's search, cautious to look out for any servants of the Vargas family as she crept through the square as best she could. 

The heat was starting to pick up and soon, any hopes of using what was left of the fading crowd would be snapped away. She was already starting to run out of time, but still, Isabella used what was left of the morning to search for the familiar faces of the sisters. 

Gradual waves of people passed her by, but none held the pair she was looking for. Isabella did her best to quickly glance at their eyes as she walked by, a brief check to see if any of them held the easily recognizable bright red tint Julchen had. 

But as the hours dragged on, Isabella soon found the colors melding into a murky shade before her eyes, barely distinguishable from one another as she circled her way around the streets before arriving back in the square. 

Which is why when she briefly met a cold violet gaze, it took Isabella a moment to realize what exactly that meant for her. 

“ _You_.” 

The crowd parted when Anneliese stalked forward, drawing her sword in a single fluid motion. Isabella desperately looked around her, but found any possible means of escape cut off by the circle that formed around them. 

By the time she turned back to Anneliese, Isabella found the tip of a blade pointed at her neck. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

There was no question in Anneliese’s words, only a simple statement that Isabella could only nod her head to confirm, daring not to speak with a sword inches away from breaking her skin.

At first glance, there was only a professional stoicism on Anneliese’s face, but if she looked closer, she could just barely manage to spot some other emotion she couldn’t quite name darting behind her eyes. 

“I’m not entertaining this anymore,” Anneliese continued, gaze fixated on her target. “Draw your sword unless you prefer to die without one.” 

It was then that Isabella saw the slight tremble of the blade pointed at her, faint enough to be written off as her muscles at work. If that was all she had seen, then she would have been quick to leave it as such, but that brief flicker made itself known again, the hint of pain that Anneliese couldn’t quite manage to keep locked up. 

It was that little glimpse of Anneliese that solidified Isabella’s choice, keeping her arms by her sides as she met Anneliese’s stare with her own. 

“I’m not going to fight you.” 

A pause rippled through the crowd, rolling through all who gathered from the center outwards. With them, Anneliese’s hand faltered ever so slightly before it caught itself in that brief dip. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not going to fight you,” Isabella repeated, eyes darting down to the blade still at her throat for a moment before she met Anneliese again. “And I don’t think you want to either."

The tip of Anneliese’s sword pressed dangerously close to Isabella’s neck.

“Do not assume what my interests are,” she hissed, “considering you of all people are the least likely to know them.” 

Isabella could see the rage building up in harsh waves, but with it, that brief interlude of hurt grew longer as well. She kept her voice low as she murmured her question, eyes soft with understanding despite the threat still aimed directly at her. 

“It was Julchen, wasn’t it?” 

Anneliese’s arm jerked forward and Isabella had to jump back to avoid having her neck sliced open. 

“I don’t see why you insist on asking if you already know.” Anneliese’s steady voice was starting to break, a waver in her words that she couldn’t quite keep out. “Is this your attempt at stalling for time?”

“Not at all,” Isabella murmured. “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret because of her.” 

Anneliese’s blade drew a swift line in the air, enough to force Isabella back even further as her face twisted into a snarl. 

“If I wanted your sympathy, I would have asked!” 

“I’m not giving you my sympathy!” 

Isabella’s own voice started to crack with her desperation, keeping well away from Anneliese as she tried to explain herself. 

“This isn’t going to end if we keep fighting each other!” Isabella was forced to dodge again when Anneliese swung at her side. “Can’t you see that? Killing me isn’t going to bring Julchen back to you!"

“ _Shut up!_ ” 

Anneliese’s blade came down straight for Isabella’s head and was met with the harsh clash of metal. 

“Well that’s not very polite of you.”

Julchen’s grin offered no humor, staring Anneliese down with her own sword raised above her head, effectively stopping her in her tracks. 

Compared to the burning rage that seemed to fuel Anneliese, Julchen’s face held only a freezing resentment as her grin widened, twisting her arm to untangle their weapons. 

“Still don’t know how to listen, huh?” Julchen’s taunts held no playful undertone, a haunting accusation quick to fill the void it left behind. “Is that my fault too?” 

Anneliese looked just about ready to tear apart anyone and everyone in her way, a dangerous twitch in her hand as she gripped the hilt of her sword. “This doesn’t concern you.” 

“I think it does, Annie,” came the sharp reply. “I bet Isa’s not the one you want to be pointing that thing at.” 

Isabella glanced between them, apprehension slowly drowning out the brief moment of understanding as she reached out to grab Julchen's arm. 

“Wait-” 

“Don’t worry.” 

Her hand was quickly shaken off without a second glance from Julchen. 

“You really think the princess is going to waste her time with a _liar_?” 

Anneliese’s jaw clenched.

“I’m not wasting my time with anybody I am not ordered to deal with,” she said quietly. “Now, get out of my way.”

“Oh, it’s an order then? You _have_ to go after Isa?” Julchen let out a harsh bark of laughter, a cruel grin twisting itself onto her face. “I’ll fight for her then.” 

“ _Julchen!_ ” 

Isabella and Monika whipped their heads to face each other, both equally as stunned to see the other as Monika finally managed to make her way through the crowd. Julchen however, didn’t even turn to face them. 

“You two stay out of this.” 

At that order, the entire circle seemed to widen as the crowd stepped back, forcing Isabella to stumble back back with it. 

Julchen eyed the ripple of movement for a brief moment before her attention was back on Anneliese. 

“Well?” Julchen slowly started to make her way forward, sword resting loosely in her grip. “Not going to take that generous offer?” 

Anneliese’s hand steadied by her side. 

“You’re willing to die for her?” 

Julchen scoffed.

“Duh.” 

“Good.” 

In the blink of an eye, Anneliese was in front of Julchen and swinging down for her face, nearly taking her head off with a clean cut.

Gone was the playful atmosphere, the mild testing of each style in their mock battles. Now, Anneliese abandoned her precious technique, eyes fixated on Julchen and arm pushing out wherever she could reach. She drove forward with a one-track mind, throwing herself into her movements as the lid on that rage that had been left to boil over finally exploded into a flurry of wild strikes. 

Julchen, on the other hand, seemed to lose the light-hearted passion that fueled her sporadic style. She met Annelise’s blows with her own in a careful maneuver, only bitterness pushing her forward as the energy she was renowned for was quickly sucked away in favor of redirecting it into each jerk of her hand. 

The two circled each other, darting forward to slam their blades together in a cacophony of metal only to follow the other who dared to stumble back with no mercy. There were no more teasing blows, no pulled swings that determined where their swords fell. 

Now, they struck to kill. 

And Isabella had never been more terrified in her life. 

“They’re both going to end up dead!” she whispered harshly, not daring to take her eyes off of the pair for a second. 

“If not them, then one of these people here.” Monika scanned over the crowd with a worried crease to her eyes. “We have to get everyone to leave or get those two to stop.” 

Monika’s words were rushed now, already racing ahead of her mind as she raced to figure out a solution. 

“Break them up, but be careful if you get between them. I’m going to get everyone else as far back as possible.” 

Before Isabella could even answer, Monika had already taken off, starting to push whoever she could away from Julchen and Anneliese’s hazardous blows. 

Isabella turned helplessly to face the pair, Anneliese just now skidding backwards and dashing out of the way of Julchen’s blade before she swung for her chest. A quick glance to her side confirmed that Monika was working as quickly as possible, raising her voice in order to rival the deafening clashes from behind her as she raised her arms up to keep the circle from shrinking again. 

Everything was moving so fast that she could barely manage to keep up, but at this point, she had no choice but to catch up. Falling behind was no longer an option. 

Isabella took a deep breath, turning her gaze back to the pair in the center before she drew her own sword and threw herself into the battle. 

“Stop it! Both of you!” 

Two vicious glares were shot at her, but Isabella only ignored them in favor of twisting Julchen’s blade away from Anneliese. 

“Come on, can’t we talk about this?” Isabella could feel the desperation strangling her words as they came out of her mouth, but she pressed on regardless. “What is this going to solve?”

“Get the hell out of the way!” 

Julchen brought her sword down only to be met by Isabella, who took the small window of opportunity she had to push herself between the two. 

Still, that did little to deter them, only forcing Isabella to twist between them in order to stop their blades as they aimed around her. Her head was spinning and she wasn’t even sure if she was breathing anymore, but her hand was still aching with the tight grip it held on the hilt of her sword, so Isabella assumed that she was still alive for the time being. 

She didn’t know how long that would last.

“Move, Carriedo!” 

“No!” 

Isabella couldn’t even tell what direction Anneliese’s voice came from, focused solely on the two swords that were bouncing off each other above her, whipping around to meet wherever they intersected. 

She knew they were getting frustrated, and there were a few blows aimed for her that she had to scramble to block, but it was a risk she was willing to take if it would get them away for each other.

Both Julchen and Anneliese lost their refined edge before Isabella’s eyes, a certain sloppiness in the swing of their arms that resembled more of a dying flail than a blow. She was quick to stop them before one could overpower the other though. Even with their energy slowly draining away, the two were a force to be reckoned with. 

Julchen let out a frustrated yell when she raised her blade, only to be stopped by Isabella’s quick parry. 

“Goddammit, I said _mo_ -” 

Isabella paused when Julchen’s voice abruptly cut itself off.

She turned her head just in time to see Anneliese’s face pale, eyes wide with horror as she froze in place. Her line of sight followed the line of Anneliese’s arm, passing by her own waist and stretching forward until it reached Julchen. 

At first, all Isabella took in was Julchen’s shocked face, the way her lips parted as her hand slackened, her blade falling to the ground with a loud clatter that startled Isabella in the sheer silence that settled over the square. 

And then she saw the sword buried in Julchen’s abdomen. 

Julchen blinked once before she stumbled back, the cold metal soaked in crimson where it tugged itself from her body while Julchen didn’t even seem to register its presence at all. That look of surprise never left her face as she brought a hand to her stomach, pulling her palm away when it was stained with blood. What covered her gloved fingers sunk into the dark fabric, leaving behind a murky stain that just barely revealed itself in the light. 

Isabella managed to meet her confused gaze for only a second before Julchen followed the path of her abandoned sword and hit the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen, is that last bit unrealistic? yes. but have you seen mercutio's original death scene??? that bitch just refuses to fuckin die without his monologue. the only version that has a longer death is probably like the ballet adaptation, which is admittedly really fun, but also the most drawn out thing i've ever seen. eh i don't really have an excuse for how this came out i'm just stressed and working on this when i should be studying but what else is new at this point


	30. Vindicta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Julchen was one of those select few people with the talent to claim they could live forever and actually manage to prove it. 

She defied the odds at every turn, throwing herself into danger for the thrill of it and always emerging unscathed. No challenge was risky enough for her, not with the certainty with which she faced them. 

Julchen Beilschmidt said she was invincible and forced the world to accept it as an absolute truth.

But now, right in front of Isabella’s eyes, that illusion finally shattered.

“ _Julchen!_ ” 

Before Isabella could even think to react, Monika was already skidding down next to her sister, pressing her own hands over the wound as tightly as she could. 

Julchen’s head lolled to the side before she managed to catch herself, eyes narrowing as she eyed Monika. 

“What the hell are you so worried about?” Julchen let out a barking laugh, forcing Monika’s hands to jump with the sudden movement before they could reinforce their pressure. “M’not even hurt. Just a little tired.” 

“Shut up. Just shut up.” Monika’s voice was wavering, but the emotion in it was harsher than Isabella had ever heard it before. “Isabella!” 

Isabella was quick to drop her own sword, ignoring the crash of the metal against stone as she kneeled down by Julchen’s other side. “What do I do? Should we move her? I-” 

“Keep your hands here and don’t let her move,” Monika snapped, already letting go of Julchen to grab at her own shirt, tearing at the seams of her sleeve with a harsh jerk. 

Isabella couldn’t even see the depth of the wound through the pool of crimson that streamed through Julchen’s shirt, and a part of her was thankful for that as she pressed her hands against the wound.

Her hands were unsettlingly warm, fingers slick with blood and nearly losing their grip on Julchen if it weren’t for the deathly amount of pressure she was putting on her. But still, Julchen didn’t even flinch at her fumbled attempts to staunch the bleeding, only blinking wearily down at her stomach. 

“I said m’fine,” she grumbled, arm briefly rising once to push at Isabella before it fell again. “Jus’ a scratch.” 

“That’s ok.” Isabella was horrified at how soft her voice became, an attempt at comfort that she could barely provide. “You just need to lay down for now, ok?” 

“Move your hands.” 

Isabella quickly jerked her hands back, allowing Monika to stretch out what remained of her shirtsleeve in order to hastily tie it into a makeshift bandage. 

As Monika worked, Julchen still showed no signs of pain, but her face twisted with discomfort when Monika lifted her ever so slightly to wrap the fabric around her abdomen. 

Isabella was quick to smooth down her unruly hair, ignoring the way her chest twisted when the platinum locks were lined with a murky red. 

“She’s almost done,” she whispered. “I promise. Just a few more seconds now and it’ll be over.”

Still, Julchen didn’t relax, only tensing and letting out a hiss when Monika tightened the knot of her bandage. 

“Are you tryin’ to kill me?” Julchen’s hand clenched and Isabella was quick to pry open her fingers and take them in her own, wincing when her grip tightened again. “Christ, that fuckin’ stings.” 

Monika paused, face pale as her head whipped up. 

“You felt that?” 

“Th’ hell do you think?”

Monika and Isabella both shared a worried glance before Monika crouched to readjust herself. 

“There’s guards around here somewhere.” Monika’s voice came out in a jumbled rush, nearly incomprehensible as she checked the bandage one final time. “They can take you back home faster than I can.” 

“Are you sure you can move her?” Isabella asked, joined with Julchen’s heavy groan. 

“Do you think I have a choice?” Monika’s face twisted into a snarl, overflowing with panic as she moved one hand under Julchen’s knees while the other wrapped around her back. “Help me pick her up!” 

“But-” 

“Just do it!” 

Isabella hesitated, but a harsh glare from Monika forced her to move. She quickly copied Monika’s stance and eyed Julchen’s pale face once before she got ready to move. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Isabella took a deep breath when she lifted her friend and a hysterical scream pierced through the square as sharp as the blade that pierced Julchen. 

Julchen’s eyes snapped shut, contorting in harsh jerks in an attempt to get out of their arms. Her hair whipped across her face as she tore her head back and forth, a neverending shriek tearing itself from her throat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

Isabella could barely hear herself over Julchen’s desperate cacophony, but her lips kept mumbling apologies for something she couldn’t even explain herself. 

In a flash, Monika shifted her arms so she could take on Julchen’s weight alone, grunting as she adjusted her sister in a more secure hold, not a word leaving her as she did so.

“ _Fuck!”_ Julchen still struggled in Monika’s hold, violent enough to make Isabella keep her hands outstretched in case she fell. “Fuckin- Monika stop, stop, stop, _stop, Christ!_ ”

Isabella darted forward when Monika stumbled, but there was little she could do in the second it took for Monika to regain her balance again. “No, Julchen, please you have to stay still! Please, just-” 

“ _Shut the fuck up!”_

Isabella faltered when Julchen’s wild gaze locked onto her, pupils blown wide enough to overtake the bright crimson that encircled them. 

“Shut up, just shut up- oh _fuck.”_ Julchen’s breath came out in a strangled rush, briefly squeezing her eyes shut. “God, I’ll kill you both, I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you.” 

The guilt washed over Isabella quicker than anything she had ever felt before when Julchen turned to look between her and Anneliese. Her own breathing was starting to stutter, heart pounding in her chest in an attempt to keep the air flowing. It didn’t matter; she was still drowning either way. 

A part of her knew it was just the rambling that came with pain, the hasty disconnection between the mouth and the mind lagging behind one another, but Isabella could have sworn that Julchen was never more lucid before. 

“I’ll kill you both,” Julchen huffed out, only for her volume to raise to a deafening shriek when Monika started to move. “ _I’ll kill you both!”_

Monika was already making her way through the square, face stoic as Julchen’s gasping screeches followed her path. She never spoke, but Isabella still saw the watery haze over her eyes before she took off. 

Julchen’s voice still haunted the square, a ghostly echo of her pain reverbing throughout the silence the further she traveled until both she and Monika vanished from sight, swallowed up by the narrow streets. 

Isabella could only stare, left behind in the square with nothing else she could do to help.

Her eyes eventually drifted down to the ground, taking in Julchen’s sword on the ground without really seeing it. It wasn’t the blade that she fixated on, but rather the puddle of dark crimson just a little ways away from it, still pooling together under the sun. 

Isabella brought her hands up and found that same red drenched all over her, none of the royal blues or calming violets that would usually stain her skin. Her hands were still slick with blood and she wanted nothing more than to scrub at that offensive shade until it was washed away. 

Isabella never knew she could hate a color so much. 

“I-I didn’t mean to.” 

Her gaze flickered over to Anneliese, who only stared at her with wide violet eyes, one hand clamped around her mouth as the other held her sword in a death grip. Regardless of their position, both of her hands were still visibly shaking. 

“I swear, I didn’t- oh my God.” Anneliese’s eyes traveled to the sword on the ground just like Isabella did. “Oh my God.” 

Her voice was breathy, tinged with disbelief and merely a whisper carried away by the air compared to Julchen’s howls. 

The sun flashed against the metal in Anneliese’s hand, turning the murky ruby that dripped off the edge of her sword into a flaming scarlet. The rest of the world narrowed down until all Isabella could see was that red that incriminated Anneliese, blood slowly running down the harsh line of metal. 

Julchen’s blood. 

That deep red was all Isabella could see, staining her hands and the blade in front of her. She didn’t break her stare as she turned and picked up her own sword. 

The handle was hard to grab, nearly slipping in her hold, but Isabella kept a firm grip on it as she stepped forward. Anneliese only watched with wide eyes until Isabella paused. 

And swung from shoulder to shoulder to slash at Anneliese’s chest. 

“You _bastard!_ ”

Isabella was barely conscious of her own movements, only focused on the harsh clash of metal as she brought her arm down as hard she could. 

Anneliese stumbled back, all of her fiery grace gone as she struggled to meet each furious blow. She was barely managing to raise her hand in time to defend herself, each movement lagging behind for a second too long before she could manage to jolt up to defend herself.

Isabella couldn’t see the tremor in Anneliese’s grip, not that she cared enough to look for it, because either way, it was still Julchen’s blood on the hesitant hand that tried to stop her. 

Her arm felt disconnected from her body, moving on its own before she could figure out what exactly she was trying to do. Sword fighting was nothing new for Isabella; she had more than enough experience with each playful match between her and Julchen. 

To fight with the intent to actually cause harm though was a foreign feeling, one that twisted in her stomach the longer she thought about it. If only by instinct, Isabella’s blade would stop just before it could make contact with Anneliese, pausing long enough for Anneliese to block it in return. 

But looking at her now, regret written all over her face as clear as the blood on her hands, Isabella forced what little hesitation she had aside. 

She pressed forward when Anneliese stumbled back, following her without mercy even as they got dangerously close to getting the edge of the crowd involved. Reckless blows and harsh swings ensured that Anneliese would have no choice but to face the relentless rush of energy that Isabella was desperate to release head-on. 

Isabella’s shoulder was starting to ache with the first signs of fatigue, but she pushed past what little discomfort she felt until finally, she managed to catch Anneliese’s hand in a quick jerk of her blade. 

Anneliese immediately hissed and dropped her sword, hand coming back in a flash to instinctively cradle it close to her. 

Before the crash of the metal could hit the ground, a crimson line blossomed against her chest. The cut stretched along the width of her abdomen, but it was still too shallow to kill, no matter how fearful she looked. 

Isabella couldn’t let that happen. 

She raised her arm and was forced backwards when another sword collided with her own.

“Stop!” 

Monika forced Isabella’s arm back down with a twist of her blade, firmly placed between her and Anneliese. Even with all of her adrenaline-induced rage, Isabella was no match for Monika’s strength. 

“You need to get out of here!” Monika’s arm jerked up when Isabella swung again. “There’s not much time-”

_“I don’t care!”_

Before Isabella could try to get past her again, Anneliese had taken the chance to run, stumbling her way through the crowd with one hand wrapped around her stomach, scarlet red cape whipping behind her a final time before she vanished.

A strangled yell left her throat as Isabella’s sword slammed against the ground in her frustration. 

“What the hell was that for?” 

“I told you!” Monika frantically sheathed her sword as she glanced around what remained of the crowd. “You need to leave!” 

“She was _right there_!” Isabella shouted back, throwing her hands up to gesture to the now-empty space in front of her. “I could have-”

“That doesn’t matter!” Monika’s voice was already starting to rise in order to meet Isabella’s, finding a sharp edge in her urgency. “We’ve wasted enough time already! You need to run!”

“What, like her?” 

Isabella’s rational thought was completely drowned out in the new feedback loop of frustration she found herself in, meeting Monika’s harsh glare with her own. She didn’t falter when Monika let out a strangled groan, briefly running her hands through her hair before she dropped them to stare Isabella down. 

“Do you _want_ to die?” 

That question was the last thing Isabella was expecting, completely smacked out of her rising anger by the sheer confusion. Vaguely, something was connecting in her mind, but they simply didn’t align correctly until she heard the sound of shouting from down the street, working its way back through the crowd in a wave of commotion. 

Isabella’s eyes widened. 

“Is that-” 

_“Yes!”_

Isabella stumbled forward when Monika shoved her, nearly toppling over before she managed to catch herself. 

“Go stay with Sister Marianne,” she rushed out. “They won’t search there!”

Despite Monika’s push, Isabella still remained frozen in her place, gaze flickering over the slowly growing crowd before it landed on the ground. 

Her own sword laid next to Julchen’s abandoned one, silvery metal coated with a dark red. 

“I-.” Isabella barely managed to tear her eyes off of her sword in order to look helplessly back up at Monika. “Did I-” 

“Just run!” 

With a final shove from Monika, Isabella was forced towards the church once more. She quickly spun around herself, scanning through the people that had gathered only to be met with unabashed staring and frantic yelling. 

No matter where she looked, Isabella found no answers, no one left to help her out of the grave she had dug herself into. 

The square seemed to shrink with each passing second, harsh concrete bearing down on her ribcage and forcing her to curl in towards herself the longer she stayed. Her skin was pulled taut over the heart that threatened to beat right over her chest, constricting itself as she turned in dizzying circles. 

With nowhere else to go, Isabella finally stumbled into a sprint for the steps of the church, pushing her sore legs as hard as she could and shoving through the crowd with the blind hope that she would be able to escape before the Queen arrived.

She refused to think about how little it would matter in the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'know what i should be doing?? studying for the ap test i got in like 2 days. y'know what i'm gonna do instead?? crank out as much of this fic as i can before i have to start cramming all of the 1200-1900s directly into my head. also watch as these chapter titles keep getting more and more abstract as time goes on bc i don't know how to properly name things


	31. Verona's Final Sentence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Prince Escalus - Brunhilde Beilschmidt (Fem! Germania)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)  
> Lord Montague - Andrea Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Portugal)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Monika had felt fear before just as she had courage. She was no stranger to the twisting pull of dread, to the feeling of the ground falling out from under her feet when things started to fall apart. 

But now, as she heard the call of the guards, she wasn’t sure if she had ever felt more terrified in her life. 

A hush fell over the square, killing off the frantic energy of the day in order to leave behind an apprehensive silence. All of the eager need to rush in see the action in the square seemed to disappear, flipped completely onto its head until everybody had looked as if they would rather be anywhere else. 

Slowly unfurling from the edge outwards, the circle began to part until Monika was left alone in the center with no one left to support her. 

Nobody dared to speak when the Queen made her way through the crowd without a pause, leaving behind an empty trail back out where the citizens once swarmed. She looked just as stern as Monika had expected, a firm set to each step she took that never once faltered until she stood just across from her. 

Brunhilde was every bit the feared and immaculate ruler she had become known for, but if Monika looked closer, she could spot the deep crimson on her gloves, a near-black stain marring the pristine white. 

She shut down the train of thought that observation started as quickly as she could. It would do no good to linger on what had already been done now. 

Monika turned her attention back to the Queen as she studied the crowd for a brief moment, surveying all who had gathered with a cold stare before she turned back to her youngest daughter. 

“Monika.” 

Her voice was quiet, but the low tones of her statement spread far with a hidden strength. 

“What happened?” 

“I swear to God, you better get the hell out of my way!” 

Before Monika could even think to open her mouth, the crowd was swiftly torn apart, sending citizens scrambling out of Andrea’s warpath. 

Her fists were balled at her sides as she tore her way through the square, a burning glare scorched onto her face. She was quick to shove aside whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves inbetween her and her target, path dangerously set in stone for the Queen. 

“What the hell is going on?” Andrea’s hands jerked up to wave behind her as her voice boomed through the streets. “Where’s Isa? If she ends up hurt because of you bastards, I swear-” 

“ _Brunhilde_!” 

Monika’s head snapped up once again, watching helplessly as the crowd quickly parted once more to let Octavia storm through, looming over the crowd with the shadow of her military glory peering behind her. With her easy-going attitude, it was easy to forget just what kind of life Octavia had led before she had settled down in Verona; but now, that readily-dismissed past was set out clearer than ever before. 

Octavia opened her mouth to finish her statement, but it quickly snapped back shut once she met Andrea’s vicious glare. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Andrea shot back, waving a hand in Octavia’s general direction. “I was minding my own business when I heard that _your_ Anneliese started a fight with Isa! You tell me what I’m supposed to do with that!” 

“Stay out of it!” Octavia’s voice was quick to rise in order to meet Andrea’s own. “I’m here because Anna came back halfway dead!” 

“And that’s Isa’s fault? Why the hell are you pushing everything onto her?” 

“Because Anna didn’t stab herself on her own!” 

“ _Quiet!_ ” 

The Queen was rarely one to raise her voice, but the times where she did served as a harsh reminder to all who could hear her of the dire consequences that she was more than capable of handing out.

At her command, both Octavia and Andrea fell silent, although their sharp glares left behind a slowly simmering tension that could only be held back for so long. Monika wasn’t blind to this development, well aware of the time constraint they were in when her mother finally turned back to her with a deep frown. 

“Monika, what happened?” 

Octavia groaned as soon as Brunhilde looked over to her daughter. “Why are you asking her? She’s going to cover up for that brat!” 

“ _Monika_.” 

Monika didn’t dare to keep her waiting at the bite in her mother’s words, her stoic calm threatening to break with every passing second. 

“Anneliese attempted to attack Isabella by the time I arrived,” she reported dutifully, although she couldn’t help but clutch at her own hands behind her back. “Julchen offered to fight in her place and-” 

She faltered when she saw the dark red on her mother’s gloves. 

“-And Anneliese stabbed her.” 

Octavia already raised her arm to protest, but the Queen was quick to hold up a hand in order to silence her before she could even begin. 

“And?” 

Monika had to take a minute to regain her own self-control, fingers clenching around tight enough around her wrist to sting. 

“And Isabella tried to go after Anneliese after I left with Julchen.”

“What was that you were saying about my sister?” Andrea’s patience finally snapped with a snarl in Octavia’s direction. 

“I _said_ this is her fault!” Octavia snapped back. “None of this would have happened if your sister knew how to mind her own business!” 

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Andrea stalked forward, hands flying up to shove Octavia backwards. “Anneliese comes up to _Isa_ , almost kills her _and_ Julchen, and you’re going to tell me that’s all because _Isa_ can’t mind her own business? Are you listening to your own damn words right now?” 

“Listen to yourself!” Octavia was quick to push Andrea back before she could attempt another blow. “Isabella’s the one who decided to break in to see Chiara!” 

It was that single claim that truly burst the lid off of Andrea’s rage, face twisting with her disbelief as she threw her hands up. 

“Why the hell would Isa want to see the brat you raised?”

“Ask her yourself if you want to know!” Octavia already had her hand raised for another sharp insult, but it quickly froze as her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute.”

Octavia’s head snapped to the side and Monika felt her face drain of all blood when that heated glare was fixated on her. 

“You were there too! Didn’t have a problem waking everybody up to see Marzia, but now you want to be quiet?” 

Monika felt her stomach drop straight to the ground, tensing with the rush of the panicked chill that forced her body to lock in place. All of her hasty explanations seemed to fall apart in front of her own eyes, rendered useless in the face of confrontation.

“I-” 

“You did _what_? _”_

Brunhilde’s voice took on a sharp edge, words coming out too quick to keep up with her stoic mask. Monika had seen her mother irritated before, but she had never seen a lapse of control as dramatic as the one she had just witnessed. 

She could already feel the ground falling out from under her feet to make way for her grave. 

“No, I-” 

“Of course she didn’t!” 

Andrea was quick to jump in, but Monika could already tell that it wasn’t for her sake that she was choosing to argue. 

“What, is every girl in this damn city going after your daughters now?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" 

"You couldn't tell?"

“ _Stop!_ ” 

Before Andrea or Octavia could get another word in, the Queen had already shot out her question, cold stare fixated on Monika. 

“You were seeing Marzia?” 

“I-” Monika’s first instinct was to keep on stammering out explanations even she didn’t believe in the desperate hope that one of them would catch on, but resignation quickly sank in as she bit her tongue and let out a deep breath. “Yes.” 

“And Isabella was seeing Chiara?” 

“Yes.” 

Her mother's eyes seemed to pierce right into her soul, tearing apart all of the hidden worries and hushed plans Monika had worked so hard to lock in her head. Every part of her was left exposed, open for the unyielding judgement Monika knew her mother was preparing. There was nothing she could do but wait for the harsh disapproval she knew was coming, as if she was nothing more than a child once again. 

Monika had never felt more helpless in her life. 

Andrea’s jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock while Octavia let out a frustrated yell. 

“Look! Everybody wants to blame Anna when Isabella’s the one who started this whole mess!” Octavia turned to the Queen as she threw a hand back in Monika’s general direction. “You’re the one who said the next person to start a fight was going to die, so kill Isabella already and get this over with!” 

Brunhilde brought a hand up to her face, bowing her head as she rubbed at her temples. She made no move to imply that she had even heard Octavia’s demand. 

When she finally lifted her head, Monika could already feel the weariness seeping out from her mother’s form. 

“No.” Brunhilde’s voice raised itself loud enough to boom through the square for her final judgement. “Isabella will be banished from Verona come tomorrow.” 

It was better than death, so much better than having her friend killed, but Monika still felt a cold grip around her heart once that sentence was set in stone. 

Andrea, on the other hand, only stared at the Queen with barely hidden shock. 

“You believe her?” Andrea’s arm swept over to Octavia in her rising frustration. “You really think Isa is stupid enough to go after Chiara?” 

“I believe Monika,” came the clipped response. 

Andrea looked between the three women in front of her, searching for support that wasn’t there before she circled around to scan the crowd just as wildly. 

A sharp pang stabbed in Monika’s chest when she realized she had seen this scene with another Carriedo just a little while ago.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Andrea whipped back to face the Queen, eyes wide as they flickered around the square. “You all think she did it.” 

“Yes.” The Queen’s stoic tone took on a sharp edge, the threat of punishment hiding just under her words. “I have made myself clear before. Now, Isabella has the chance to leave quietly before her original punishment stands. Do not mistake my understanding for leniency.”

Andrea only stared at the Queen, disbelief clear in her gaze. “You’re crazy.” 

She backed up, head swiveling to search the crowd. “You’re all fucking crazy.” 

“You heard her.” Octavia offered no scrap of sympathy, only a vengeful pride that forced Andrea back. 

“You’re really going to-” 

Andrea didn’t even finish her question when the Queen nodded, a curt dip of her head. 

Monika had to force her eyes to the ground when Andrea turned that look of betrayal to her, unable to face what she had inadvertently caused. 

“No.” 

Andrea slowly began to back up, head shaking ever so slightly as she looked between the three. Her gaze turned back to the crowd and found no response, no help to change what had been settled. 

“No!” 

Andrea bolted off, shoving her way back through the mass of people, nearly stumbling over herself in her haste to get out of the square. 

“Isabella! _Isabella!_ ” 

Struggling back past the crowd, Andrea was gone, sent on a hopeless search for her sister through Verona that sent a cold trickle of guilt down Monika's spine. If she was braver, she would have gone after her, would have tried to explain what had happened and where Isabella was. 

No matter what she told herself though, Monika would never be strong enough to do that. She only watched silently as Andrea vanished, biting her tongue to hold back the help she was too afraid to offer. 

As soon as Andrea was gone, Brunhilde gave a heavy sigh, head dropping ever so slightly while Octavia sent her a glance from the side of her eye. 

“Not going to have her killed, huh?” 

Brunhilde didn’t return her pointed look. 

“Leave.” Her gaze was fixed on what remained of the crowd that had gathered. “Do not make me return for this reason again.” 

Slowly but surely, the crowd began to disappear in hushed whispers and worried mutters, draining away into narrow alleyways as the square slowly emptied. 

Octavia sent a final glance to the Queen before she turned her back as well, leaving with none of the bold resolution she had entered with. 

The rush of energy in the city slowly died down with the people that spread themselves out through the streets, fading away until only the only two people left in the square were Monika and her mother.

Monika glanced up when Brunhilde let out a barely audible exhale, her eyes closing with a slight furrow to her brow before she opened them again to look over Monika. 

Her mother had always been a powerful figure, someone who fought for her right to rule; but now, Monika saw only a tired woman in front of her, someone who had taken on the weight of her position for far too long. 

“I-” Monika briefly faltered when she caught sight of her mother’s stained gloves once more. “I’m sorry.” 

Her stomach twisted into guilty knots when Brunhilde only stared at her, offering no response for Monika to work with. She knew she was being studied, carefully analyzed to see just how she should be handled. It was something she had done often, but to be on the recieving end of that distant gaze was something that made Monika's skin crawl with discomfort. 

It was unnatural to see her mother's tired face, a rare glimpse of the woman underneath the image of the Queen. Monika wanted to apologize and lift just the slightest bit of the burden she had placed on her, but repetition was something that she knew would be frowned upon. There was simply nothing she could do but wait. 

“I know.” 

Brunhilde turned away and briefly glanced over her shoulder with a pause. “Come. Julchen’s waiting.” 

Monika stared at her for a moment, frozen in place before she managed to get her legs to move again. 

It wasn't what she expected, it wasn't what she deserved, but Monika still followed after her like she was a child again, hiding behind the only source of strength she knew. 

Monika had finally lost all control of the world around her until she had no choice but to turn to the one person she had looked up to in hopes of earning her forgiveness. It was selfish, it truly was, but Monika still stayed close to her mother as they quietly made their way back to the castle, indulging in the comfort she didn’t deserve to have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the good use of parental authority award goes to absolutely no one. you all get participation trophies and a few chapters to think about what you just did. it's like 1 am rn and i bet it shows so sorry this is pretty clunky


	32. Fortune's Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Friar Lawrence - Marianne Bonnefoy (Fem! France)  
> Lord Montague - Andrea Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Portugal)
> 
> Translations:  
> Bon courage - Good courage/Good luck

The halls of the church were home to a heavy silence, one that echoed through empty halls filled with the translucent flow of color that shone through the stained glass windows. To muffle yourself was simply the norm with the old stone walls that amplified each small step and muffled whisper, hushed to maintain that reverent peace that settled itself over the grand halls. 

But for once, a booming echo tore through every corner of the church, a heavy pounding against wood that burst through the quiet and circled into a cacophony with each passing reverberation. 

Marianne hurried to the entrance, quick footsteps tapping at the stone with each step she took as the knocking persisted. She didn’t waste a second once she reached the large wooden door, her ears ringing with the looping echo as she pulled at the handle. 

Marianne wasn’t surprised in the least to see Andrea standing with her fist raised, her other hand propped up on the doorframe to support herself as she gasped for breath. 

“ _Bonjour_ , Andrea.” Marianne took the liberty of speaking first while Andrea gathered enough air to speak. “Is there something you need?” 

“Yes, yes there is.” Andrea said quickly. “Have you seen Isabella?” 

Her voice came out in a jumbled rush, spitting out a string of words that Marianne was sure she had repeated many times since the morning. Still, she frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. “Isabella?” 

Andrea’s head whipped up and down in a violent nod. “I’ve been looking for her and nobody’s seen a trace of her around here.” 

“Ah, I see.” Marianne gave her as kind of a smile as she could while her hands came to link themselves together. “I apologize, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen her either.” 

“You haven’t?” 

With Marianne’s slow nod, all of the energy that fueled Andrea’s nervous drive seemed to drain away, leaving behind a hollow resignation that visibly sapped away at her body. 

She felt the sharp tinge of concern tugging ever so briefly at her chest, coaxing out no small amount of sympathy in the process. 

“I’m sure she’ll be back by tomorrow,” Marianne murmured, voice hushed in a soft attempt at comfort. “That was no small fight she got into. She needs time to understand what happened as well.” 

A bitter laugh left Andrea’s mouth, the supposed humor barely reaching her eyes. 

“There is no tomorrow.”

Marianne froze. 

“What?” 

It took a moment for Andrea’s hidden meaning to sink in before Marianne could even think of opening her mouth again. 

“You mean-” 

“Banished.” Andrea’s false smile dropped, leaving behind a wavering neutrality that flickered in and out of existence. “She’s dead if she’s here in the morning.” 

The silence of the church seemed to weigh that much heavier on Marianne’s shoulders. 

“Oh.” Marianne’s hand came up to cover her mouth as she stared at Andrea with wide eyes. “Oh, Andrea-” 

Andrea only stared back at her, a numb acceptance crossing over her face. “Don’t.” 

Marianne kept what words of advice or comfort she could have offered to herself with that sharp word, even if they still waited to be unleashed on the tip of her tongue. 

She only watched as Andrea began to turn her back, already moving towards her next target before she paused. Andrea briefly glanced behind her, just long enough for Marianne to spot the hesitation that lingered in her eyes before she quietly murmured her final request, offering not much more than a whisper.

“If you see her, can you tell her to come back home? I don’t-” Andrea’s voice faltered, gaze darting over to the square before it settled back on Marianne. “I don’t want her to have to leave alone.”

Marianne had never quite felt a guilt as strong as the one that ripped at her heart with those words. 

“Of course I will.” She quieted her voice in order to match Andrea’s own, volume barely picked up by the empty halls. “ _Bon courage_ , Andrea.” 

Andrea only gave a brief nod before she turned to leave, not once looking behind her as she hurried back down the steps. 

Marianne waited until her figure vanished down another alleyway before she shut the door, the contact reverberating throughout the church to crush the dull silence. She closed her eyes, resting her back against the door for a moment in order to process Andrea’s news. 

She wanted nothing more than to hide herself away in privacy in order to muse over that tragic sentence alone, but her work was not yet finished. It would not do now to abandon the responsibility given to her.

Marianne pushed herself off of the door, making her way through the empty halls with a set determination to her pace. She only faltered when she reached the end of the hallway, pausing once in front of the door to her study. 

Marianne forced herself to take a deep breath before she could find the courage to open the door. 

The candlelight offered little visibility to spare, barely flickering enough to reveal the faded desk and scattered manuscripts laid out over her desk. The small room provided little space to hide, but Marianne still held her breath when the object of her search was missing upon first glance. 

A second look around and the brief flare of life the candle gave quickly soothed those concerns, although they did little to comfort the source of her worries, curled up on the ground with her knees drawn in close to her chest. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” Marianne closed the door behind her, slowly making her way over to the corner that the wisping flame ever so faintly illuminated. “Andrea is looking for you.” 

Isabella only shook her head, face buried in her arms. 

Marianne sighed and knelt down to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around Isabella’s shoulders to pull her closer. 

“She’s not angry with you.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Marianne paused at the muffled response. Her hand came up to gently smooth down messy brown locks, long since torn free from their bun. “I know she’s worried about you. With good reason, too.” 

Isabella said nothing. Marianne knew better than to rush her though, choosing to sit silently by her side instead to coax out the thoughts she knew were tumbling around inside Isabella’s mind.

Eventually, her head lolled to the side, allowing Marianne to catch a glimpse of the numb despair that washed over her face. 

It was disconcerting to see that expression on Isabella, who had always pushed to see the best in each situation. For her to look so devoid of hope was a sight that was simply wrong in every sense of the word, unnatural in a way that shook Marianne to her core. 

“I hurt Anna.” Isabella’s eyes never wandered from their fixation on Marianne’s own, although Marianne could still see the wandering glaze that draped itself over her stare. “But she never hurt me.”

Marianne’s fingers never stopped their slow path through Isabella’s hair, even as her lips quirked down in a small frown. “That is not a path you want to go down. You all made mistakes and you all suffered for it. Is that not enough for whatever blame you want to look for?”

“I didn’t get hurt.” 

Isabella’s response was clipped, but Marianne could pick out all of the sentiments packed into those simple words. 

“You do not deserve to be.” 

Isabella blinked at her and Marianne knew that she didn’t believe that hushed reassurance, no matter how true it was. Marianne could practically see the way Isabella was turning over that phrase in her head, picking it apart with the heavy bias of guilt to guide her.

“What did Andrea say?”

Marianne could tell when a distraction was being made, although she doubted that any of the news Andrea had to offer would help lessen the regret on Isabella’s mind. But as she looked over the girl by her side, Marianne realized that there was little she could say to try and lift Isabella’s burden. 

Perhaps she was a fool for trying to do so at all. 

“There is a reason why she is trying so hard to find you,” Marianne murmured, mulling over her words carefully before she let them reach Isabella. 

She saw no reaction, but she braced herself regardless. That calm wouldn’t last long. 

“You’ve been banished, I’m afraid,” she said quietly. “Andrea wants to see you again before you have to leave.”

Isabella said nothing and for a moment, Marianne wondered if she had even heard her.

“She-”

“Banished?” 

The quiet repetition shattered what was left of Marianne’s heart, a pure lack of comprehension in her question. 

“ _Oui_.” Marianne drew Isabella closer, waiting for the fall she knew was coming. “I do not know until when, but you cannot stay here.” 

Isabella’s face was blank, not quite present enough to take in the news as quickly as she could have. Marianne almost wished she could have kept it that way when she saw the understanding dawn on her face, eyes widening with a pure horror that Marianne had never seen before. 

“I’m banished?” 

Marianne nodded. 

Isabella blinked once, lips parting to speak before they shut again. Marianne could see the adrenaline of the battle dying away before her eyes, stripping Isabella of the narrow-minded protection it granted until she had no choice but to face the consequences alone.

And there was nothing Marianne could do to stop it. 

She could only look on as the tears started to well up in Isabella’s eyes, mouth opening and closing in a fruitless attempt to translate her thoughts before it all finally came spilling out.

“I don’t want to go.” Isabella’s voice broke with a hiccup, striking through her desperate words. “I don’t want to go. Can’t I stay here with you? I’ll just-I’ll stay inside. And-and I’ll make sure no one sees me and I won’t have to leave if I can just stay here and-” 

“You know I can’t do that,” Marianne replied, voice gentle as she stopped Isabella’s rambling pleas. 

_“Yes you can!”_

Marianne jolted at the near-deafening echo from Isabella’s shout. 

“You can, you can, you have to.” Isabella’s voice died back down into a murmur, the brief rush of power quickly fading away. “You have to.” 

Marianne’s own eyes began to sting, bringing her hand up to cover them for a moment before she could face Isabella again. 

“Even if I could,” she murmured, “is that really how you want to live?”

She received no response. 

“You would be trapping yourself in here. There is no way I could get anybody else inside to see you without putting you at risk. It would be a lonely way to wait out what time you have before you are caught.”

Marianne had to wipe at her eyes again, pausing to catch her breath before she could continue. 

“I am sure that Chiara would not want you to live like this after you have already suffered through so much for her.” 

That name was all it took for Isabella’s frantic energy to fade away, draining from her body as her tense posture slackened into a slouch. 

“I don’t want to leave her.” That admission barely made it’s way past Isabella’s lips. “I don’t think I can.” 

Marianne paused, hesitating for a brief moment as she held back the idea on the tip of her tongue. But as she looked over Isabella, alone and slighted in every possible way by fate that she could imagine, she realized that now, Isabella truly had nothing left to lose. 

That was enough for Marianne to steel herself and offer what little solace she could. 

“I can take you to her garden tonight,” she said quietly. “If you really want to see her, I can take you. But you will have to leave before the sun rises. Wait any longer and you will be dead before you can even think to climb back over.” 

Isabella froze for a moment before her head snapped up. “Really?” 

“It is the least I can do for you.” 

And it was true. 

Marianne had foolishly piled her own hopes onto Isabella’s shoulders, forcing her to bear the weight of the city as she fell into a hopeless love that Marianne pushed her to chase. She had blinded herself to the harsh reality of Verona and now, once the consequences crashed down onto Isabella, she could only work to earn the forgiveness she didn’t truly deserve.

“Thank you.” Isabella’s arms jolted up to crush her in a hug regardless. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, oh my God, thank you.” 

Marianne returned her embrace with an equal amount of strength and a smile stretched too tightly. “Of course.” 

She would do what she could, even if it wasn’t quite enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight now i gotta go rest up and get ready to guillotine the college board in the morning. have this little bit of angst for your day


	33. Anneliese's Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara briefly peered down the hallway, scanning around for any sign of wandering servants and glancing behind her once for good measure before she hurried out from behind the corner. 

Even she had to admit that this was in no way a good idea, but there was really little left to lose at this point. Plans never seemed to go the way anyone intended for them to and at this point, Chiara almost figured she would be better off without one. 

In fact, she had never intended to even leave her room that day. Shutting the world out from the safety of her covers as soon as word spread that Anneliese had left for the square was a luxury she had allowed herself to indulge in, blocking out the traitorous sun that marked the hours until Anneliese would return and Chiara would be forced to face the crumbling scene around her. It was childish and a part of her still felt a coiling disgust at the low she had stooped to, but it gave her just a little more time to pretend that things weren’t falling apart at her feet, even if it was only for a few hours. 

And then she heard the commotion outside her door. 

Anneliese’s name was on the tip of everybody’s tongue, frantically swapped out for hurried reports and requests for more bandages, more water, more servants. Chiara only caught what little of the panic that had managed to break past the locked door, but it was enough for her to make the connection that not even Anneliese’s plan had managed to be set into motion without consequence. 

It took a while for the rush to die down, until the panicked shouting calmed into passing whispers. The muffled yelling and harsh footsteps grated on her ears, but Chiara would have preferred that over the unfiltered rumors that seeped through the estate, creeping into her room with nothing she could do to wipe them from her mind.

Because now, instead of just dying like she should have, Isabella was dead, missing, executed, banished, beaten; and nobody could seem to agree on which it was supposed to be. 

Chiara’s hands briefly clenched, nails digging into her palm and leaving angry red crescents behind before she could control herself. The door she was looking for was shut, but she paid little attention to that detail as she stalked through the final stretch of the hallway in front of her. 

It seemed like things would never go according to plan now, but she would at least take the liberty of finding out what had gone wrong for herself. She hadn’t fallen so far as to blindly take what fate had dumped onto her and she certainly wasn’t intending to anytime soon.

Chiara pushed the door open, already opening her mouth to start her inquisition, and promptly shut it again.

The room was nothing like she had remembered. Papers were scattered on the floor around the desk in the corner, drawers opened haphazardly with their contents left exposed. Heavy curtains pulled shut beat back the sunlight, enveloping the room in a hazy darkness that seemed to throw this little section of the estate out of the flow of time.

She had to squint in order to adjust her eyes enough to make out the two figures on the bed, barely catching the silhouettes of one laying down and one sitting just on the edge of the mattress. As soon as the door opened though, both Anneliese and Elizabeta snapped their heads up to face her. 

“Chiara!” Elizabeta scrambled to pull up the covers, but Chiara still caught a glimpse of the stained bandages wrapped around Anneliese’s abdomen. “What are you doing here?” 

“I want to know what happened,” she snapped back, closing the door with a little too much force as she stepped inside. 

Elizabeta’s eyes flickered over to Anneliese, who only kept her gaze level with Chiara’s harsh glare. “This really isn’t a good time. Isn’t there someone else-” 

“No!” Chiara’s voice boomed throughout the enclosed room. “I’m going to hear what fucking happened and it’s going to come from _you_!” 

Sharp violet eyes widened when Chiara brought a hand up to point directly at her target. When Anneliese said nothing to defend herself, Elizabeta’s face started to tighten with a barely concealed desperation.

“Please Chiara, Anna was only trying to help-”

Chiara let out a harsh bark of laughter too scathing to be filled with humor. “You call that help?” 

Elizabeta’s mouth curled into a frown as she made to stand up only to be pulled back down onto the bed.

“That’s enough.” Anneliese kept a firm grip on Elizabeta’s arm, even as she turned her head to face Chiara. “You want to know what happened?” 

“Did you hear me the first time?” Chiara crossed her arms. “Start talking.” 

Anneliese yanked Elizabeta back down when she attempted to rise again with a worried twist to her lips, shooting her a stern glance before she settled back down. “Very well.” 

“Isabella’s banished. Ran as soon as she caught word of the Queen’s arrival.” Anneliese looked up with a clinical stoicism that seemed just a little too forced to be real. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

If she was alone, if she had the time to take apart exactly what those sentences meant, then maybe the meaning behind those words would have sunk in. But right now, when her head was pounding and all of her energy was funneled into the tunnel vision that led the blame straight to Anneliese, everything else was thrown away in favor of her chase.

“That’s all? And you just stabbed yourself on the way back?” 

Anneliese’s mask cracked ever so slightly with a glimmer of irritation and while that should have brought along the start of some kind of intimidation, Chiara felt only a vicious sense of victory rush through her. 

“I didn’t think I would have to spell this out for you, but you seem to believe that Isabella is innocent in all of this.” 

“You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that?” Chiara wasn't blind the break in Anneliese’s facade and pulled it back without remorse. “She’s not the one who was sent out to kill you. What the hell did you do?” 

“Why do you keep insisting that this is my fault?” Anneliese shot back, tone sharpening with a dangerous edge that wasn’t quite present before. “I think it’s time you stop pointing fingers and start looking at who exactly caused this whole mess in the first place.” 

Elizabeta frowned as she looked between the two. “This isn’t-” 

“ _I’m_ pointing fingers?” Chiara pressed forward, shutting down Elizabeta as she kept her gaze fixed on Anneliese. “You’re the one blaming everyone but yourself!” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Anneliese bit out. “If you would just listen, then I think the truth would be obvious.”

“Then why are you lying?” 

Anneliese paused and Chiara could see the wall she had built up starting to crumble apart. A small part of her knew she should stop, that she should apologize and leave before she said something she would regret; but wrapped up in the burning red haze that fueled her, Chiara only tore down whatever she could reach in a surge of power unlike anything she had felt before.

“You’re leaving something out because you don’t want to say that it’s your fault!” Chiara threw her hands up to motion at Anneliese's prone form. “You did something! You want to get on me because it’s all _my_ fault and you won’t even admit you did something wrong!” 

“That’s not my responsibility!” Anneliese lips were curled up into a snarl, but Chiara saw the brief panic flash through her eyes. 

“What did you do?” Chiara matched Anneliese’s glare with her own, relishing in the way Anneliese couldn't seem to hold her stare as long as she used to. “You did something to make Isabella fight you! Tell me!” 

Anneliese’s hands clenched around the edge of the blankets, digging into the fabric hard enough to strain the fabric. “I didn’t do anything!” 

_“_ Do you really believe that? Do you really think any of this would have happened if it wasn’t for _you_? _”_

Anneliese sat up in a flash, lips curled into a snarl, and Chiara saw the dark red bleeding through the bandages in a messy diagonal once the blankets fell to her lap. 

“None of this would have happened if Julchen just _stayed out of my way_!” 

Elizabeta was already hurrying to get Anneliese back onto the bed, hurriedly adjusting her bandages, but Chiara only saw the way Anneliese’s eyes widened at her own admission before she was forced back down. 

Chiara knew that look. She saw it on Marzia’s face as she begged for a promise that she knew would be broken. She saw it in the mirror the night she was sent back to her room and left to scream into her hands until her voice broke and her throat burned. 

She knew what heartbreak looked like and to see it on Anneliese’s face had her vision blurring with red. 

“You _bastard_!” Chiara was stalking forward before she even realized that her legs were moving. “You fucking _bastard_!” 

Anneliese attempted to push herself backwards, but Chiara was quick to throw that observation aside as soon as she reached the bed. 

“You think you can get away with that? Who the hell do you think you are? You don't get to choose who dies because you're sad over _Julchen_! Do you even know what you've done?"

“I-” 

“You ruined everything! Everything! Isabella didn’t even do anything and she almost fucking died because you don't know how to handle your own damn feelings! Do you undestand that? You made me lose everything! But now that you want Julchen, you think that this is all _ok_?” 

“No-” 

“ _Enough!_ ” 

Chiara flew backwards when Elizabeta yanked on her arm. 

“That’s enough from both of you,” she announced, a firm set to her voice as she pulled Chiara back towards the door without a falter in her step. 

Chiara barely managed to register her voice though, all of her attention narrowing down into a fine point until all she could focus on was Anneliese, alone in her bed looking utterly distraught. 

“We never should have trusted you!” Chiara struggled to get her head past Elizabeta’s chest, barely managing to keep Anneliese in sight with a violent twist. “You selfish fucking _bitch_!” 

Chiara stumbled when she was abruptly whipped around, forced outside in one sweep of Elizabeta’s arm. Elizabeta quickly followed after her, stepping out into the hallway to meet her as she shut the door behind her. 

“Chiara-” 

“Let go of me!” 

Chiara was quick to shake off Elizabeta’s grip as soon as she could regain her balance. Her body tensed, ready for Elizabeta to come after her again, but she was only met with a sympathetic stare. 

All of Elizabeta’s stern power seemed to melt away, leaving her slouched ever so slightly as she dropped her hand. 

“Chiara,” she murmured, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to talk to Anna right now.” 

“I don’t care!” It stung to be the only one raising her voice, no one else left to feed into the vicious cycle, but Chiara didn’t dare to think about what would happen if she stopped. “Anna doesn’t even-” 

“Do you think I only care about Anna?” Elizabeta gently interrupted. “Nothing good will come out of you both going after each other so soon. Chiara, Anna needs to rest, but you do too.” 

She hated this. 

There was nothing left to fight against, nothing loud enough to drown out her own thoughts until she was deafened by the whirlwind of prickling defenses and sharp offenses. Chiara would have preferred Elizabeta to tear into her over this. 

It was too quiet and Chiara felt the first sting of fear when she realized that now she had nothing but time to take in Anneliese’s words. 

Chiara’s mouth opened and closed, not a sound leaving her lips each time the useless process repeated itself. There was no quick pace she had to rush to catch up with, and now that the world was slowing down, there was nothing left to do but to finally face what she had pushed aside. 

Elizabeta’s face softened, the harsh crease to her brow smoothing out as she opened her arms and quietly pulled Chiara in. 

Chiara didn’t push her away, not when her mind was finally starting to wrap itself around the extent of what Anneliese had revealed. She let Elizabeta guide her head down to rest on her shoulder, staring past her to focus on the middle distance between her and the wall. 

“Everything has been moving so fast for all of us. I don’t think anyone has gotten the chance to even think about what’s happened.” Elizabeta’s hand started to rub gentle circles into Chiara’s back, ruffling the fabric of her dress. “And I don’t think that’s something you want to do alone either.” 

Chiara didn’t respond, keeping her gaze fixed on a point that she could barely see anymore. 

Elizabeta’s arms tightened around her as she let out a heavy sigh. “She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?” 

Her hand never stopped moving even as Chiara turned her head to press her face into her shoulder, her steady circling broken with each small hiccup that shook through Chiara’s body.

She didn’t say anything when she heard the hushed gasps for air, only tightening her grip and rocking Chiara ever so slightly as Chiara’s hands came up to fist at the back of her dress. It was a small mercy when Chiara's face was already starting to heat up with shame as a strangled attempt at speech left her mouth, whatever explanation she had effectively broken down with nothing she could do to fix it. 

Things never seemed to go as planned, but at the very least, Elizabeta seemed to understand that as well, even if there was little she could do to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for vanishing for a minute, took a day off after my test to just let my brain melt for a bit. tbh, i'm still in Useless Mush mode rn, and this is definitely not the best chapter i've written, but i don't think i have the energy to edit it properly anymore :(


	34. Dry Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Friar Lawrence - Marianne Bonnefoy (Fem! France)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

It felt almost sacrilegious in some way to look up at the garden wall again. 

Each time she recalled seeing it, Isabella could only remember the lingering trails of eagerness that warmed her from the inside out, wandering aimlessly between the amused grins of her friends to the bemused scowl waiting for her on the other side. But now, with her palms still stinging from the scratch of the stones in front of her, Isabella wasn’t even sure if she could bring herself to cross that border one more time. 

She startled when a hand rested on her shoulder, only relaxing when she turned to see Marianne’s concerned frown. 

“I won’t blame you if you want to leave now,” she murmured. “It is never easy to say goodbye.” 

Isabella shook her head at that gentle offer. 

“Chiara doesn’t deserve that.” 

She briefly heard Marianne give a quiet sigh before her hand fell, coming to rest at her side again. “Neither of you do.” 

Marianne looked over at the wall once before she turned back to Isabella with a melancholic smile that seemed too somber to be on her face. 

“It always impresses me, how brave you can be sometimes. I just wish that you could have had a better reward for that courage.” 

Isabella’s lips quirked up into a smile that held no humor, no matter how hard she tried to search for it. “I think you’re being a little too generous there.” 

The crinkled paper in her pocket seemed to weigh down on her as soon as she finished her sentence. It certainly was the furthest from bravery she could get as she hesitantly reached to grab it, grip tightening around the furled letter for a brief moment before she could find it in herself to pull it out. 

“Can you-” Isabella stopped, holding out the letter to Marianne in the hopes that it would serve as a decent explanation as she struggled to find the right words to say. “I, um, I wrote this for Andrea, if you could-” 

Marianne’s face softened, gently plucking the worn paper from her hands and glancing over it once before she tucked it away in her robes. 

“There is still time for you to give this to her yourself,” she mused. “I really do not think Andrea would be as harsh as you believe she would.”

“I know she wouldn’t.” Isabella’s fingers clenched around themselves with nothing left to work with. “But I just- I’ve already disappointed her enough, you know? I don’t want to make her deal with this right before I leave.”

Marianne's lips still curled into a frown for a moment and Isabella could see the argument she wanted to form dissolving away with a heavy sigh as she finally offered a smile back. “I understand.” 

Isabella shook her head, offering a bitter chuckle in lieu of an answer. “Pretty selfish of me, huh? Not exactly what I would call brave.” 

“If you’re using the traditional sense of bravery, then perhaps not," Marianne interupted, careful to eye Isabella in order to gauge her reaction. “But I think this situation is far from traditional to begin with.” 

“I don't think that's enough of an excuse for me. Or Andrea."

She could feel Marianne studying her with some underlying emotion tucked away from her features, only offering a glimpse of her thoughts in the sheer shine that glossed over her pale violet eyes. Isabella couldn’t linger on what that could have meant though when she was pulled into a hug, held firmly in place before she could process what had happened. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice hushed in the night. “I’m so sorry.” 

Isabella was quick to wrap her arms around her in return as soon as her mind caught up with her body, lowering her own voice in order to match Marianne's. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Marianne let out a quiet laugh, a haunting echo tinged with disbelief audible enough for Isabella to pick up. “That is not for you to decide, unfortunately.” 

She pulled back, resting her hands on Isabella’s shoulders as she looked over her with a critical gaze, although Isabella could tell that criticism wasn't directed at her. “I shouldn’t have placed so much blind hope onto you. Even I forget that love is not the solution for everything.” 

Isabella opened her mouth to protest, but Marianne brought her hand up to stop her before she could even get a word out. 

“No. I will make it up to you, somehow.” She paused for a brief moment, face falling with her silent contemplation before she found the right words again. “I have a plan, not a good one, but a plan nonetheless. It is not nearly for what you have gone through, but it is something.”

“Mari," Isabella mumbled, brow furrowing with concern, "you don’t need to do this. I forgive you.” 

Marianne shook her head and Isabella briefly saw her eyes tearing up when her face caught the light. 

“You misunderstand,” she said quietly. “I know you forgive me. I’m afraid I just can’t forgive myself yet.”

Isabella already felt all the protests she wanted to vocalize tearing up from her throat, but Marianne only waved a hand towards the wall with a small smile. 

“Go. She’s waiting for you, and the night isn’t going to last forever.” 

Isabella hesitated, eyeing the wall for a moment before she faced Marianne again. “But-” 

“ _Go_.” Marianne shooed her away, gently pushing at her shoulder to get her to move. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.” 

Isabella looked back to the wall, to the woman hidden on the other side, before she swiftly turned back around and crushed Marianne into one last hug. 

“Thank you.” 

She felt Marianne tense up under her for a brief moment before she relaxed, arms coming up to return the embrace with just as much force. 

“Do not thank me yet.” 

Isabella pulled back and saw the firm set of determination in Marianne’s face, an expression tinged with regret that she wanted so desperately to change. But even then, she knew it wasn’t up to her to fix it. 

It was easy enough to get back up onto the wall, even with her extra caution as she searched for a grip. Once Isabella was safe on the edge, she looked back at Marianne, almost engulfed by the shadows in her robes before she offered a smile as warm as she could make it and a final wave. 

Marianne brought her hand up, moving much slower than Isabella as she smiled back, her farewell never ceasing until Isabella dropped down into the garden and Marianne’s form was abruptly cut away by the wall.

Isabella had to take a moment once she hit the ground to close her eyes, resting her head against the stone. Marianne was right; just the thought that this would be the last time she would see Chiara again was enough to spark the faintest amount of hesitation within her. 

She was tempted to climb back over without a glance behind her, if only to avoid having to face that final image. It would have been easier on them both if she just left now, if she gave Chiara the time to forget about her and move on. 

But she knew that wasn't an option as she took a deep breath, dipping her head once in order to let out a deep exhale. She wouldn’t have been able to face herself if she did that. 

It stung to part the bushes a final time, stepping over rows of blossoming petals that she kept her eyes fixed on. Everything about the scene in front of her was achingly familiar and she wanted nothing more than to fall into the fonder memories of the garden, if only to comfort her heart for just a moment longer. 

Isabella lifted her head though, finally glancing up and feeling that fondness twist itself into a bitterness harsh enough to sting when she saw Chiara on the balcony.

There was no proud posture to highlight in the silver of the moon, no silent contemplation that cast her as the sole performer in the night. Chiara’s body hunched over the edge of the balcony, arms draped over the edge to cushion her head. She seemed to shrink away from view, curled into herself and hiding her face away from the world. When Isabella had seen her in that same nightgown before, Chiara was the image of unseen beauty, radiant for the private eye only. 

But now, that hidden portrait was no longer something tranquil for only her to see, but rather a quiet show of her despair laid out on the balcony. She looked nothing like Isabella remembered but she was beautiful nonetheless, and that realization hurt more than she could have ever imagined. 

Chiara's head snapped up as soon as she stepped out from the shadows, meeting her under the balcony just as she had before with a brighter goal in mind.

The skin around her eyes rubbed itself into a raw pink, hair left in an untamed tangle on her head. There was no pride in her appearance as Isabella had seen before and it was certainly jarring to see her at her most vulnerable, something Isabella wished to see if only to fix it as best she could. 

Neither of them dared to say a word at first, only staring at one another with barely hidden disbelief. Isabella had expected her to say something at the very least, but she was only met with wide-eyed shock. 

Isabella opened her mouth to speak to break the silence between them, but her tongue quickly tied itself in her mouth before she could get a word out. There was nothing she could say to possibly hope to explain herself, although that sentiment seemed to be shared by Chiara as well. 

They could only stare at one another, separated as they once were until Chiara’s lips finally moved. 

“Oh my God.” 

Isabella barely managed to hear her, but it was enough to break the tension between them as a wide smile curled at her lips.   
  
"Chiara." 

Her own voice was already starting to waver, but she could hardly care less when she could finally see Chiara above her, finally within reach.

"Oh my God." Chiara still had yet to regain the strength that Isabella was familiar with, but that was something she didn't concern herself with. "You're here."

Isabella nodded, hair flying out of her bun with the force of her enthusiasm. "I wanted to see you before I have to go."

"But they said-"

Chiara quickly stopped herself, snapping her mouth shut as she glanced behind her.

“Wait," was all she instructed as she hurried back to her bedroom, vanishing from sight for a second before she was back just as quickly as she had left, makeshift rope held tight to her chest. 

Isabella shifted her weight from foot to foot as Chiara crouched down to tie one end around one of the supporting beams of the balcony. Her fingers shook, barely managing to tie the fabric together without stopping themselves in a hasty attempt at steadying her hands. To be so close to finally being able to reach the image she had tried so hard to comfort before left Isabella with more energy than she could handle, barely able to manage it properly as she waited for Chiara to finish her work.

She looked on anxiously as Chiara fumbled through the rope, tying loose knots over and over again before she finally let it fall from her hands, ducking her head with a muffled gasp. 

There was nothing Isabella could do but watch as Chiara clapped a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as shuddering heaves left her chest. She knew it wouldn’t work, but she reached a hand up regardless, grasping up for the woman just beyond her reach. 

“Chiara,” she murmured, a hint of desperation in her words as she eyed the rope. “Chiara, I’m right here. I'll come up if you just tie that. That’s all you need to do. Chiara, _please_.” 

“I know.” Chiara’s words came out in a rush, wavering with each shaky inhale. “I know, I know, just give me a minute.”

Isabella could barely keep her feet on the ground when Chiara grabbed the rope again, fumbling through a clumsy knot and tightening the fabric with a harsh tug before she tossed the rest of the rope over the balcony. She didn't even wait for it to hit the ground, snatching the rope out of the air and hoisting herself up as soon as she touched it.

There were a few times where she nearly lost her grip, but any thought of failure was quickly overridden by the sheer need to get over to the other side and finally reach Chiara. She grabbed for the balcony once she was close enough, yanking herself up and stumbling over the edge and right into Chiara’s arms before she could even process what had happened.

But as soon as she managed to wrap Chiara up in a solid embrace, the quiet hiccups coming from the woman in front of her finally unleashed themselves into gasping sobs. Isabella’s hands seemed to stiffen in their desperate hold, one hand splayed across her back as the other quickly came up to keep her head in place, running through dark russet locks before it held her close. 

Chiara’s shoulders shuddered under her hands, quickly tugging Isabella in and curling her fingers into her shirt as she burrowed her face into her chest. No matter how tightly Isabella tried to pull her though, she could never seem to get them close enough to bridge the space between them, never leaving them close enough for her tastes as she did her best to press them together.

“You’re here.” Chiara's voice cracked midway through her words, but Isabella could barely care about that when she was finally able to comfort her as she had hoped to. “You’re here, you’re really here, oh my God-” 

"I know, I know." Isabella shushed her, smoothing out her hair in order to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“But I-” 

“I thought you left already!” Chiara's voice rose dangerously high for a moment before she managed to catch herself again, lowering back down into a wavering pitch barely stable enough to hold her sentences together. “I thought you left and you wouldn’t- God, you’re really here.” 

Isabella felt her own eyes start to sting as Chiara lifted her head, looking up at her with nothing short of pure relief in those caramel brown eyes. Still, she did her best to give her a smile, weak as it was, and wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"I said I wouldn't leave you," she murmured, thumb gently working over her skin in order to brush away what remained of the tear tracks.

Chiara frowned at that, face twisting with a sharp acceptance that Isabella couldn't match. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”

There was no anger that Isabella could see, but she had forgotten how differently Chiara took on the world around her. It seemed like her fanciful daydreams wouldn’t be much use to mend the situation Isabella was trying so desperately to fix. 

So for once, she allowed herself to taste reality, bitter as it was. 

“You’re right. I’ll have to go.” 

Those words were acidic on her tongue and Isabella wanted nothing more than to smooth them out with hushed comforts that she couldn’t guarantee. But even then, there was still a little solace she could offer that she latched onto. 

"But not for tonight."

Chiara said nothing in response, only letting her teary gaze across Isabella’s face before she finally dropped her head again, bringing her arms up to grip loop around Isabella’s shoulders and pull her close. 

Isabella followed suit, keeping her mouth shut and merely let Chiara hold her as tight as she needed to while she returned her embrace without another word. Ever so slowly, Isabella swayed from side to side, rocking Chiara with her to offer some form of communication when there was little they could say to each other now. 

"When do you have to leave?" Chiara’s words were muffled by the fabric of Isabella’s shirt, but Isabella still caught the hushed words before they were carried away by the warm summer breeze. 

"Before the morning."Isabella offered her a small smile. "But until then, I'll be here."

Chiara pulled back ever so slightly, Isabella already stepping forward to follow her when she felt a hand slowly drape itself around her neck. 

“Do you promise?” 

Isabella's smile widened with relief, finally given something she could truly offer to Chiara.

“Of course.” 

Isabella let Chiara pull her down by the hand that threaded itself through her hair, closing her eyes in time to meet Chiara’s desperate kiss. Her own hands traveled across Chiara’s spine, pulling her close without daring to separate for any longer than a moment.

Each time she had to pull back to catch her breath, Chiara was quick to chase after her, tilting her head in order to meet her lips again with barely a second to waste. The night wouldn’t last forever and that thought was enough for Isabella to tighten her grip, her own hand coming up to weave through the copper locks in front of her and pull Chiara up in order to reach her.

When Chiara finally leaned back, face flushed as she looked up to meet Isabella’s eyes, she found that the spark of contact she had slowly nurtured had burst into a desperate flame that begged for more fuel. 

She was quick to lean down and press her lips against every part of Chiara’s face she could reach, brushing against her cheeks and forehead and occasionally pausing at her jaw as Chiara tilted her head up to let her work. 

It was only for one night that she could have Chiara again and Isabella let the inhibitions that had stopped her before melt away in the face of such limited time. All of the things that she had never experienced she threw herself into now, allowing herself to briefly travel down to draw a messy line down Chiara's neck before she made her way back up to her lips. She heard the way Chiara's breath hitched ever so slightly, hands tugging at her hair to guide her where she wanted her to go, and that was enough for her to keep on pressing kisses to her tanned skin. Isabella for her part dutifully followed along, trailing along the path Chiara made with nothing short of eagerness.

She pressed one final kiss to Chiara's lips before she finally dropped her head onto her shoulder, letting that burst of energy fizzle away into a warm glow that Chiara was careful to keep alive as she brushed back the stray locks that fell into her face. Isabella closed her eyes as Chiara's fingers brushed down against her cheeks, familiarizing themselves with a soothing weight as they made their way back up to her hair.

In that hazy satisfaction, Chiara's movements went nearly unnoticed until Isabella felt the pins keeping her messy bun in place carefully being pulled out. 

She tilted her head to the side in order to glance at Chiara as soon as she realized what was going on, although Chiara only kept her eyes fixed on her work. 

“You can’t sleep with these in your hair,” she finally explained, focus entirely dedicated to making sure she didn't pull too hard with each pin she extracted. “You forgot you had them in, didn’t you?” 

Isabella stared at her for a moment before a small smile curled at her lips, heart threatening to drown in the syrupy fondness that overtook it. “Yeah.” 

Chiara shook her head, working the last of the pins free and piling them into the palm of her hand before she ran her fingers through Isabella’s hair one last time in order to straighten out the curled locks. “Of course you did.” 

Isabella let her face bury itself back into Chiara’s shoulder, melting into her arms as Chiara let that hand continue its trail through her hair. She could have fallen asleep right then and there on the balcony if she kept up that soothing rhythm, but the knowledge that any time unconscious would be time wasted was all that managed to keep her awake. She still allowed herself to relax at the very least though, something that Chiara seemed to accept if the way her gestures slowed said anything.

Even as she sank into her hold, Chiara allowed her to lean onto her as much as she needed to, sharing the burden that threatened to drag Isabella down with it. It was so close to what she had yearned for, but to have her final victory for only a night before it would be whisked away with the first light of the morning was a cruel trade that Isabella had no choice but to accept. 

Isabella was soon forced back out of her head though when she felt a gentle pull at her hair, obediently following along and raising her head in order to meet Chiara's eyes.

At first, Chiara did nothing but let her fingers trail down from her hair to trace a line down her neck, resting on her shoulders once again without a word before she finally broke the silence between them. 

“Come on.” Chiara’s hand trailed lower until she followed the path of Isabella’s arms, gently prying her hands off of their firm hold on her back in order to interlace them with her own. “It’s getting late.” 

Isabella let out a hushed laugh, squeezing Chiara's hand and delighting in the quick response she got. “Whatever you say.” 

Chiara eyed her for a brief moment before she shook her head with a barely hidden smile, pulling Isabella into the bedroom with her as she made her way back inside. 

It was certainly much messier than Isabella had expected from someone of Chiara’s status, with clothes left abandoned on the floor and various pins and ribbons strewn about on the surface of the vanity. Although, it wasn’t as if she had much room to talk, and Chiara certainly didn’t invite any conversation about the state of her quarters if the way she walked straight to the bed said anything. 

That was perfectly fine with Isabella. 

“Take your shoes off,” was the only thing Chiara had to say before she let go of Isabella’s hand in order to safely drop the pins on the nightstand by her bed. “Just leave them wherever you want.” 

Isabella nodded, quickly taking a seat on the mattress in order to unlace her boots in record time, pulling them off with only some difficulty by the time Chiara turned back around to face her. 

Chiara had always held an untouchable presence to her, something that Isabella could never quite reach, but only admire from afar. She was breathtaking as Isabella had known her to be, but to see her now, simply a woman who cared for her instead of some angel above her, made Isabella's heart ache all the more. 

Isabella couldn’t think of the right words to even start to translate her thoughts, opening and closing her mouth once before she finally settled for opening her arms. Thankfully, Chiara managed to understand all of the sentiments she couldn’t bring herself to say, settling herself on her lap and wrapping her arms around her neck once more. 

“You’re really-” 

Chiara cut herself off, but Isabella caught onto the troubled curl to her words, bringing her arms up to rest on her waist with a frown.

“God.” 

Isabella had to strain to catch Chiara's voice, but she still tightened her grip nonetheless as soon as she heard her. 

"Tomorrow," she whispered. "That's tomorrow. I'm here now and that's all that matters." 

As much as she wanted to, Isabella couldn't even believe her own words as soon as they came out of her mouth. But Chiara took a deep breath, bowing her head once before she nodded along. 

"Yeah." Chiara lifted her gaze to meet Isabella's. "Tomorrow." 

Isabella easily leaned into her touch when Chiara leaned in to kiss her again, rubbing small circles into her hip while Chiara toyed with the strands now freed from her bun. Her hands quickly tightened when Chiara started to pull back though, mouth already open to protest as her eyes widened. 

Chiara, however, only worked her grip off in order to fall onto the bed, glancing up at Isabella as soon as she hit the covers.

"I'm not going anywhere, idiot." Chiara's insult held no little amount of amusement, although Isabella could easily see the understanding in her tone. "Hurry up and get over here."

That was enough of an invitation for her, following suit in order to lie down next to her and let her head fall onto the pillows. As soon as Chiara was back within reach, she made sure to reach out and tug her back into her arms, unwilling to waste another second apart. 

Chiara didn't protest, only bringing her hands close in order to curl herself against Isabella's chest. As she let her hand travel back up to the messy brunette locks just in front of her, Isabella briefly wondered if Chiara could feel her heartbeat racing from her position. 

It wasn't as if she could slow it down anyways, not with Chiara so close to her now. 

"I-" 

Isabella paused when Chiara glanced up at her, barely managing to stop herself from letting the rest of that thought go. Those were words she hadn't intended on saying, and this certainly wasn't how she wanted to say them. 

"What?" 

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to reveal that little emotion that threatened to burst from her at any moment, what Chiara would do if she knew what Isabella was struggling to hold onto. The words rested on the tip of her tongue, ready to be released, but Isabella only kept them back and smiled, making sure to keep that hidden sentiment locked away for the time being. "It's nothing."

She opted to lean down and press a brief kiss to Chiara's temple instead, only to have her lips captured in another proper kiss when Chiara pushed herself up to meet her before she could pull away. 

Isabella let her eyes slip shut as Chiara's hand ran down her arm, dragging the sleeve of her shirt with each passing motion until they finally settled on her shoulder, keeping them interlocked even when they had to part. She knew she would have to let those words go eventually, especially with time constricting itself down into these precious few hours, but this was something she was content to settle with, as long as she had Chiara here with her. 

She was lucky to have the chance to experience this night at all and for that, Isabella was grateful to be able to indulge in all the affection that she could finally give to Chiara and happily receive in return. The sun would rise later and call for her to flee, but that was something she would have to draw her attention to later.

Now, Isabella cherished each little moment she was granted. 

The world could wait its turn outside Chiara's bedroom. Isabella already had enough of having what little she had to lose taken away and she had little intention of letting go of the woman in her arms now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still in mush mode, so this turned into over 3k words of look how absolutely whipped isa is. also its like 1 am and all critical thinking is gone which means this is definitely pretty messy, but they are too and that's gonna be my excuse tonight


	35. Those Who Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy) 
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara’s vision remained blurred around the edges as she opened her eyes, forcing her to squeeze them back shut once before the world started to bring itself into focus. 

Just in front of her, the open balcony waited, overlooking the garden below and the start of the sunrise that peeked over the wall with faint pinks and wispy oranges. The harsh light of the afternoon had yet to arrive, and for a moment, Chiara could pretend that it never would. 

Her attention was quietly pulled away from the sky though as the hand wrapped around her waist tightened its hold. 

She didn’t remember pulling up the blankets, or even falling asleep with Isabella pressed against her back, but somehow, she had ended up here regardless. Chiara didn’t dare to complain about it now though, not when she was waiting out the final moments of the sunrise. 

Once Isabella settled behind her, Chiara risked a glance over her shoulder, turning her head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of her face. 

She had seen Isabella light up with eagerness before and to finally see that neverending energy simmer down into a peaceful rest was something that Chiara treasured. Her features seemed to soften in the pale light, casting a warm glow to her sunkissed skin. All of the emotions that she presented so clearly muted themselves in her sleep, offering a gentle lull in stark contrast to her usually boundless eagerness. It was an unfamiliar sight to say the least, but it was still one that Chiara hoped she would be able to remember for times to come. 

She carefully slipped one arm out of Isabella’s hold, reaching up to brush the messy curls that had fallen onto her face. As soon as she tucked them back behind her ear though, bleary green eyes slowly opened to meet her own, half-lidded and hazy with drowsiness. 

“Mmm?” Isabella’s voice was little more than a low rumble that Chiara could feel reverberating against her back, hushed to match the quiet of the room. She stared down at Chiara for a few beats, slowly connecting the dots together before her lips curled up into a soft smile. “You’re awake.” 

Chiara’s heart briefly clenched at the sight of Isabella in a position more domestic than she had ever seen before, a quiet kind of intimacy that was reserved for the two of them. For a moment, she wanted to point out that little fact and bring it into the light in the hopes that maybe Isabella shared that same empty longing. 

But to do that would be to break the illusion of peace between them, and that was something Chiara wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

“Don’t give me that,” she finally mumbled back. “I was up before you.”

That familiar banter was well worth it when Isabella let out a quiet laugh, slowly shaking off the last of her weariness. She briefly dropped her head to bury her face in Chiara’s hair, thumb drawing lazy circles over the curve of her hip. 

When Chiara caught her eyes again though, she only saw that relaxed state linger for a few seconds before Isabella’s gaze drifted over to the balcony. As soon as her eyes set themselves on the rising sun, her smile faded away, leaving behind a resigned stare that seemed much too foreign to be on her face. 

Chiara knew that the spell had been broken. There was no point in grabbing for that peaceful dream anymore, so she simply settled for facing the cold reality. 

“You have to go soon.” 

Even though Chiara knew what she was saying was true, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching down to grab Isabella’s hand, pulling it close to her chest as she spoke. Isabella said nothing in return though, only squeezing Chiara’s hand as she kept her gaze fixed on the sky. 

“Just a few more minutes,” she said quietly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “Let me have a few more minutes.” 

Against her better judgement, Chiara squeezed back, letting her head fall back onto the pillow as Isabella shifted to press herself even closer to her back. The sunrise was still in its early stages, shaking off the heavy curtain of the night ever so slowly. 

It was odd, how time seemed to suspend itself. Chiara found herself displaced from the usual flow of the day, disconnected from the morning that threatened to take Isabella away. She wondered vaguely if she was still dreaming, if she still had more time left once she woke up. 

A part of her was willing to ignore the flow of time if only to make the sunrise last forever, but another was quick to remind her that it would be all too easy to lose track completely. If it had been anybody else's life on the line, then that would be a risk she would gladly take. 

But for Isabella, Chiara wouldn't dare to lose what little she had left for a moment of self-indulgence.

“Sit up.” 

Isabella paused and Chiara didn’t have to look at her to see the confused look on her face. “Huh?” 

“Sit up,” she repeated, turning around in Isabella’s hold in order to face her. “And hand me the pins.”

Chiara couldn’t keep time back forever and that was what she reminded herself when Isabella nodded and slowly took her hand back. The warm weight against her back was whisked away as the covers dislodged themselves, pooling around Isabella’s waist as she leaned over to grab the scattered hairpins on the nightstand. 

As Isabella pulled her legs out from the covers in order to sit cross-legged on top of them, Chiara forced herself up as well, kneeling down behind Isabella and reaching up to start untangling her hair. 

A silence settled over them, allowing the calm of the morning to seep into the bedroom as they started a routine that they weren't sure they would be able to repeat again. Chiara carefully worked through the messy locks of hair, combing her fingers through the strands from the bottom up until she could finally start to pull it back. Every so often, she would lean down to pluck a pin from Isabella's open palm, keeping her focus fixated on the task in front of her. 

“You’re really good at this.” 

Chiara only let out a vague hum in acknowledgement, catching the loose flyaways that Isabella left untamed in order to form the outline of a much neater bun compared to what she usually saw on her.

“That’s what happens when you have Eliza do your hair every morning.” 

Isabella let out a quiet huff, careful to keep her head stationary with that small movement. “I can’t argue with that.” 

However, the brief conversation between them soured as soon as Isabella finished her sentence, the looming future peeking out from the tranquil facade of the morning. Chiara couldn’t tell what exactly had just ran through Isabella’s mind, but she imagined that she had a fairly good guess as to what train of thought was starting to pick back up again.

“I just wish you could do this for me all the time.” 

Chiara paused when she heard the bitter undertone to her words, fingers hovering over the pin in her hair for a moment before she pushed it in. "You can do this yourself."

"But I want you to do it.”

And Chiara wanted that too. She wanted to be able to wake up each morning with Isabella at her side and have the reassurance that that was where she would always be, and for a minute, her mind raced ahead of her tongue.

"Then you'll have to come back."

Chiara paused as soon as those words left her mouth, and judging by the way Isabella similarily froze up, she was feeling something similar. 

“What?” 

Chiara was tempted to just brush off what she had said as a slip of the tongue, but the quiet hope in Isabella’s tone slowly changed her mind, coaxing out the impulsive thoughts that she had tried to repress. 

“You heard me,” she said quietly. “Your sentence might change later.” 

Isabella’s hand briefly clenched around the pins before it relaxed again, fingers slow to uncurl around her palm. 

It almost felt like a lie. She barely even believed herself, but she was still foolish enough to try and replicate that persistent yearning that kept Isabella going, if only to have something to hold onto. For a moment, Chiara wondered if Isabella could see right through her and pry out the doubt that remained so poorly concealed in those words. 

“I guess you’re right.” 

But she never did. And Chiara, selfish as it was, allowed herself to fan the start of that stolen hope. 

“I know I am.” Chiara fastened the last of Isabella’s hair back into a neat bun, pressing down the pins to make sure they would stay secure. “You’ll have to come back if you want me to do this again, so don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone, alright?” 

“I won’t. I promise.” 

Chiara couldn’t quite bring herself to let her hands fall back to her sides once she finished her work, fingers lingering to run across the locks pulled taut in an attempt to keep that little connection between them. Isabella said nothing, but she slowly reached up in order to take Chiara’s hands, wrapping them around her shoulders herself in order to cradle their interlocked fingers close to her chest. 

“I’ll be back,” Isabella murmured. “I’ll come back for you.” 

Chiara pressed her forehead against Isabella’s back, curling her fingers tight around Isabella’s own. “You better.” 

From here, she could feel Isabella’s heart beating out a steady rhythm, pulsing with life. She wanted nothing more than to feel that constant drumming, the reminder that Isabella was still safe and here with her, but Chiara would rather have that heart far away from her instead of dead in her hands. 

She felt the rumble that echoed through Isabella’s chest when she let out a soft chuckle. 

“I really don’t want to leave.” Isabella’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Chiara could still spot the muted resignation in her tone. “I’ve just gotten used to having so many people around, I guess. I can’t really imagine myself without everyone else.” 

Isabella’s voice dropped down into a hush, not even close to audible until Chiara was forced to lift her head in order to catch her final words.

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

Chiara wanted nothing more than to tear away the fear that had no place in Isabella, but she wasn't even sure how she would even be able to try because no matter what she could do, it was still the same fear that lingered in her own heart. There was truly nothing she could think of to say in order to soothe those worries and that sense helplessness that started to creep into her head was something that she couldn't ignore. 

“We really fucked this up, didn’t we?” 

Chiara rose and fell with the course of Isabella's heavy sigh, pressing herself closer once Isabella settled back down.

“We did, but that’s alright,” Isabella finally whispered. “We’ll fix it with time.” 

Chiara briefly caught Isabella’s kind smile, felt the way she squeezed her hands once more before she slowly dropped them.

She watched on as Isabella leaned over to grab her boots, perching herself on the edge of the bed in order to lace them up before she pushed herself off and stood up. Her clothes were still wrinkled and she briefly had to stifle a yawn as soon as she was on her feet, looking nothing like the charmingly messy woman Chiara had seen in the past. 

She was exhausted, beaten, a dead woman walking, but she was still Isabella and for that, Chiara still felt the quiet beat of adoration pound in time with her heart. 

Chiara took much longer to get out of bed, although Isabella still waited patiently for her, offering her hand as soon as she scooted towards the edge to help her up. Their fingers remained entwined as they made their way towards the balcony, stepping out into the light of the early morning. 

She had never been awake early enough to catch the sunrise outside, but the sight that greeted her was nothing short of breathtaking. Muted violets and soft azures melted together below her in the faint light, still overcast with the last shadows of the night. The wind offered a refreshingly chilled breeze around them, although Chiara could already feel the temperature slowly rising as time went on. 

It wouldn’t be long before the heat would rise with the sun, forcing Isabella out with the night in order to start a new day. 

When she glanced over at Isabella, she saw the quiet despair written all over her face, one that her kindness couldn't hope to conceal. It wasn't fair for someone like Isabella to have to go through so much and for once, Chiara allowed herself to offer the helping hand first instead of taking all of the comfort she could get for herself. 

“Wait.” 

Chiara let her hand slip from Isabella's, darting over to the corner of the balcony in order to reach out and pluck a rose off of one of the creeping vines. As she made her way back, she snapped off the thorns with barely a moment wasted, leaving them scattered across the floor without a care. 

She glanced back up at Isabella, hand raised and ready to slip the flower into her bun, but she found that she couldn’t quite get her hand to move. 

It had never truly sank in until then that this could be the last time she would see Isabella. For all of their fanciful hopes and wishes, there was still no guarantee that she would be able to return. This could be the last time Chiara would get to give Isabella such a gift and meager as it was, Chiara didn’t know if she could hand it away just yet. It was too final, too certain, too-

“Chiara.” 

Isabella’s hands carefully wrapped around her own, steadying the tremors that were starting to run their way up to the very petals of the rose, although Chiara didn’t miss the way Isabella had to fight to keep her own hands steady too. 

“It’s ok.” 

Chiara let Isabella guide her hand up to her hair, finessing the stem of the rose into her bun. As her hand fell again, Isabella carefully scooped it back up to press a kiss to the back of her hand. 

“You-” Isabella faltered. “You just need to wait a little, ok? I’ll be back and everything will be alright.” 

For anyone else, Chiara wanted to argue, to snap that it was obviously a lie, that things broken beyond repair couldn’t be fixed so easily, that Isabella couldn’t take on the world alone. But when there was already so much out of her control, when hope was all she could cling to, Chiara allowed herself to indulge in it greedily. 

“Just don’t keep me waiting.” 

“I won’t.” 

Isabella looked down at her and Chiara briefly caught the watery shine to her eyes before she was being pulled into her arms, hands running down her spine and up to cup her head close. 

“Thank you.” Isabella's voice was already starting to choke up, grip slowly tightening around her waist with each word she managed to get out. “You’ve done so much for me, and- and I don’t even know how to begin to repay that. I’m just so glad I-” 

“Shut up.”

Chiara pressed her face into Isabella's shoulder, digging her fingers into the fabric of her messy shirt. “We’re not doing goodbyes because you’re not leaving.” 

She leaned her head to the side in order to meet Isabella's stare, hoping that for once, she could sound as determined as she wished she could be.

“You’re going to keep yourself alive until your sentence changes and then you’re going to come back here, got it?” 

Isabella's mouth opened and quickly shut again, her wide-eyed contemplation lingering for a few moments longer before it melted away into a warm smile filled with all the hope that Chiara wanted for herself.

“Of course.” 

Chiara swayed briefly with Isabella’s movement before she was being pulled back. 

“I’ll see you then.” 

Chiara tightened one last time before she let go, allowing Isabella to back away and climb back over the edge of the balcony. She waited for Isabella to drop back down into the garden, body already tense with anticipation before she realized that Isabella had yet to move. 

Chiara caught the way Isabella’s fingers curled around the stone edge in a grip that had to sting for a moment before she leaned back over and quickly caught her lips one final time. 

She didn’t even have to think before she brought her hands up to cup Isabella’s face, running over her cheeks to cradle her head as her eyes slipped shut. There was no fierce desperation or listless despair between them, only a quiet promise tinged with a muted disbelief. Chiara couldn't know if Isabella would be able to follow through with it, but that small oath that Isabella had been so fond of repeating was enough for her. Even if she wanted more, even if she wanted a solid certainty, Chiara would make it enough for her now that it was all she had left. 

When she finally had to part from Isabella, Chiara didn’t dare to move away, still pressed close enough so each word brushed against her lips. “Don’t be too stupid without me, alright?” 

Isabella only smiled back, briefly ducking down to kiss her a final time. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

It wasn't a farewell. Chiara had to force herself to keep that in mind as Isabella pulled back with a final smile before she started to climb back down the rope. It wasn't a farewell and she wouldn't allow it to become one. 

She watched as Isabella landed with a muffled thud, planting herself on the ground before she looked back up. 

“I’ll be back,” she called out, careful to keep her voice hushed in the calm of the morning. “I promise.” 

“I know.” 

Isabellal’s lips quirked up for a brief second before she was making her way back towards the wall in an achingly familiar sight. Every time she left, Chiara had always been granted safety in the belief that she would return again. 

But now that the certainty with which she held that belief was starting to ever, Chiara wasn’t sure how to feel when she saw Isabella perched on top of the wall again. 

For a moment, Chiara could have sworn that Isabella had seemed paler in the faint sunlight, deathly still in the quiet of the morning until she seemed to be little more than a corpse propped up by an invisible set of strings that seemed ready to snap and let her body fall at any moment. 

But Isabella slowly lifted a hand up to wave at her and life came rushing back into her with the warm smile she sent her way. 

Chiara wanted to chase after her, to make sure that that brief hallucination would stay imaginary, but she knew she couldn’t bring herself to climb over that wall a final time. Her hands tightened their grip around the edge of the balcony as she lifted her head and offered as warm of a smile as she could back, one filled with all of the hope she was desperate to keep alive. 

Isabella’s grin quickly widened when Chiara waved back, and for a moment, Chiara could almost pretend that it was just a casual parting and that Isabella would be back in the night before she knew it. 

However, the second Isabella jumped back down and vanished from sight, Chiara felt her heart tighten with the thought that it would be the last time she would see her again. 

The garden was quiet, awfully so, and once again, Chiara found herself alone.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not dead!! this chapter was just ridiculously hard to write out for some reason and you're looking at the result of something that's been cut, rearranged and rewritten way too many times to keep track. i do apologize if its still messy or if it doesn't flow as smoothly because there's a lot that i added and took out while i was writing this! gotta love inconsistent scene choices am i right


	36. Those Who Were Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara didn’t know how long she stood outside, but it was long enough for the sun to rise out from its hidden perch behind the wall in order to fully bring in the start of the morning. 

There was no point in waiting now. Isabella had already left and the world was moving on without her, but Chiara just couldn’t bring herself to leave the balcony just yet. Her head was still hazy with exhaustion and her whole body sunk over the railing of the balcony in an attempt to catch a moment of rest. She just wanted a moment to close her eyes and slowly process what had just happened.

However, she whipped around as soon as she heard a knock on the door, turning her head just in time to see Elizabeta carefully peer into her room. 

“Chiara?” She slowly closed the door behind her, wiping her hands off on her apron as she made her way to the balcony. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. What do you want?” 

She regretted her harsh words as soon as they left her mouth, especially once she saw Elizabeta’s face fall. Elizabeta really didn’t deserve her inability to process her own emotions and Chiara already felt the first pangs of guilt slowly thrum with her heart, even if Elizabeta didn’t say a word in protest.

“Sanem’s here to see you and your mother,” Elizabeta reported gently. “She wants to see you as soon as possible.” 

“No.” 

That response was driven out of her mouth by pure instinct. Chiara could already feel that familiar constriction around her chest as soon as she heard Sanem’s name and now, there was no hidden lover left to help her ease it away. 

She could feel Elizabeta's quizzical gaze on her back for a moment before she let out a heavy sigh, coming forward to rest her elbows on the balcony next to her. “I don’t think you can put this one off, Chiara. She’s pretty determined to make a scene about this.” 

“I don’t care.” 

She really didn’t. All of the desperation and irritation had blended together into a barely palatable mess in her head, but it was still too much and she just wanted a little longer before she had to jump back into the hole she had dug herself into. 

For a moment, she wondered if Elizabeta somehow could tell what she was thinking when she reached over to start smoothing out her hair, offering her a small smile when Chiara glanced up at her.

“You still look tired," was the only explanation she gave. "Wait out here. I’ll go get your clothes ready and then I'll call you in, ok?.” 

Chiara gave a vague nod, head already falling onto her arms as Elizabeta quietly made her way back into her room. It was a small blessing, but one Chiara was grateful for nonetheless. Her mind was spinning with hopeful futures and the looming present and she could barely start to untangle the two even with the time she was granted.

Chiara let her eyes fall shut again. 

She just wanted a little more time.

~~

She stood corrected. 

Now, Chiara wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk right back to her room the second she saw her mother and Sanem seated at the table in the garden.

They were already engaged in a hushed conversation that seemed civil enough at the surface, but Chiara could see the hidden irritation lingering just behind Octavia’s slouched posture and Sanem’s taut smile. As soon as she entered though, their talk quickly silenced itself as their heads snapped up to face her. Chiara was expecting the resignation on her mother’s face, but the second she met Sanem’s eyes, her stomach dropped straight to the ground. 

For a brief moment, short enough to make her wonder if she hallucinated it, Sanem’s face hardened into a glare cold enough to make her shoulders tense in place. But just as quickly as it came, it washed away to leave behind a polite smile. 

It did nothing to soothe Chiara’s pounding heart as she cautiously made her way through the garden.

“Chiara.” Octavia voice was already heavy with exhaustion as she waved towards the table. “Go ahead and sit down.” 

She stopped as soon as Sanem made to stand up, watching as she made her way towards the other side of the table to pull her chair out. Chiara caught the hardened gleam in Sanem’s eyes as she waited patiently for her to arrive and for a moment, Chiara couldn’t get her legs to start moving. 

Freezing up now wouldn’t vanish Sanem away though, so she slowly forced herself to approach the table, even if she did curl into herself as soon as Sanem was within reach. 

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she muttered quietly, eyeing her mother before she glanced back up at Sanem. 

She barely managed to bite her yelp back when Sanem’s hand briefly shot out to yank her down, her tight grip gone before she knew it. Sanem in turn only gave her a calm smile at her muffled sound as she leaned down until her mouth was just about level with her ear.

“And I didn’t ask for you to run off with another woman.” 

Chiara could barely stop her chest from constricting enough to keep breathing properly as Sanem straightened up with a final smile, making her way back to her own seat with no indication that she was bothered by their tense exchange. 

Octavia seemed to follow a similar mindset as she looked between them once before she brought a hand up to rub at her temples. “I’m sorry about all of this, Sanem.” 

Sanem only waved her off, although Chiara was well-aware of the fact that her stare was still locked onto her. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m sure Chiara had her own reasons for acting the way she did.”

She didn’t have to answer. She knew Sanem was waiting for her to start talking, she could feel the pointed question aimed right at her, but she didn’t have to answer. That was what she held onto as she stiffened while her mother slouched even further. 

“Is there some way we can make this up to you?” she offered. “I’m sure this won’t happen again.” 

“Oh no,” Sanem answered easily. “There’s nothing you need to make up. I’m just worried about how Chiara is handling all of this.” 

“I think that’s something you’ll have to ask her,” Octavia replied, waving her hand towards Chiara. 

She had to keep her mouth shut. Chiara knew that Sanem was taunting her, trying to chip away at whatever resistance she put up, but she refused to entertain the obvious blow to her ego. She just had to be quiet. 

“I doubt she’ll want to answer yet.” Sanem’s lips curved up into a smile too wide to be genuine. “Although I do worry about her maturity as a bride if this is how she chooses to handle herself now.” 

_“I’m not your fucking bride!”_

Chiara knew she slipped up as soon as those words left her mouth, but the insufferable look in Sanem’s eyes was enough to break down what little self-restraint she had left. 

She paused though when instead of some grandiose declaration of her victory, Sanem only gestured towards her as if she was nothing more than a fly on the wall. Something was wrong.

“See? Even now, she’s still a little hysterical for her age.” 

“I’m sorry Sanem, but she’s still a girl.” Octavia turned her stern gaze towards Chiara. “One who’s still prone to making bad choices.” 

“And that’s completely understandable,” Sanem continued smoothly. “I’m sure she’ll need time to get over the results of those choices though, and that’s why I’m here today.” 

Sanem glanced back at her and carefully folded her hands together with a confident smile.

“I’d like to marry Chiara this week.” 

And Chiara could have sworn her heart stopped.

She vaguely heard Octavia let out a heavy sigh, just barely managed to see her head coming to rest on the palm of her hand. “Sanem, she’s still too young for that.” 

“I think the opposite might be true now, actually.” 

She knew Sanem was looking at her, but she didn’t dare to look up at meet Sanem’s eyes because of course, she should have known, she messed up again- 

“Chiara’s shown that she’s more than capable of making her own choices, but as you can see, that clearly didn’t end well for anyone involved.” 

And of course Sanem would play the noble heroine, of course she would be the spoiled brat again-

“She’s reaching the age where she needs a mentor of sorts, and I am more than willing to help her.” Sanem gestured towards herself with all the false concern in the world. “For her sake, I think moving this wedding forward would be the best choice right now.”

That was enough. 

She barely registered the sting of her palm as she slammed her hand down on the table or her chair screeching backwards as she bolted up.

“Are you fucking serious?” Chiara threw her hand up towards Sanem with a fierce snarl. “Who the hell are you trying to fool with that-” 

“ _Chiara_.” 

Octavia’s harsh tone cut Chiara off before she could continue, standing up alongside her in order to reach over and grab her wrist. 

“Will you excuse us for a minute, Sanem?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Chiara stumbled along with another pull from her mother, but that moment of hesitation was long enough to catch the way Sanem’s polite smile turned into a smug grin with all the self-assurance of someone who had already gotten their way. 

She wanted nothing more than to march her way back and smack that look off of Sanem’s face, but she had no choice but to follow along when Octavia’s grip refused to slacken. Even then, her scowl became a permanent fixture on her face up until she found herself back in her room with her mother scowling right back at her. 

“Chiara, what were you thinking?” 

Chiara sputtered when she saw the completely unjustified exasperation written all over her mother's expression. “What was I- what the hell were _you_ thinking?” 

The quick turnaround barely even fazed Octavia though as she brought a hand up to rub at her temples. “That Sanem has a point.” 

Chiara’s jaw dropped. 

“She’s lying!” Her hands flew up to demonstrate her point, waving uselessly back towards the garden where Sanem was waiting. “She’s just trying to get what she wants!” 

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Octavia groaned. “I know she wants to push this forward for herself, but she’s still right. You can't be trusted with yourself right now." 

At first, Chiara could only wave her hand towards the door, unable to piece together the flurry of protests and explanations storming through her head in order to make a coherent sentence. 

“So you’re going to trust her over me?” she finally spat out. “You really think she knows me better than I do?” 

Octavia’s face briefly twisted with the first signs of irritation, although if only to keep feeding this cycle, Chiara fully welcomed it. “Chiara, what else am I supposed to do?” 

“Listen to me!” 

“No, _you_ listen to _me_!” 

Chiara faltered when her mother’s voice finally rose into a booming echo. 

“I’m doing my best to take care of you, but you keep insisting on throwing yourself into these situations! If you would just stop and listen to me for once, none of this would be a problem right now!”

This she could work with though, the familiar sensation of her heart pounding in her chest and her tongue tying itself up in her throat before she could snap back a response. So she chose to narrow her eyes and let her scowl deepen even further in order to let that burning wrath finally boil over. 

“Why the hell should I listen to you?”

“Because you’re still my daughter!” 

For a moment, Chiara caught the same flicker of self-righteousness on her mother’s face that she had seen on Sanem, the same unfaltering pride and unbreakable jurisdiction and the same rush of desperate hatred thrummed through her head before she could even think to hold her tongue.

“I’d rather be dead than be your damn daughter!” 

Chiara knew she went too far the second Octavia’s face fell, eyes wide with shock, but she couldn’t bring herself to care when she was already wrapped up in the hazy rage that pulsated through her head. 

She fully expected her mother to start raising her voice, for another repeat of their last fight yet again, but Octavia simply remained silent. Chiara kept her mother’s stare with a harsh glare as her face slowly fell before she turned and left without another word. 

Chiara let out a strangled yell as soon as the door shut, hands coming up to tear at her hair before she slammed them back down. There was no outlet left for all of the restless energy she had built up, and all she could do now was pace back and forth endlessly and try to ignore the fact that Sanem was still inside and her own mother trusted her more than her. 

But she still snapped up as soon as she heard the knock on the door. 

“ _What_?” 

“Chiara?” 

Chiara wanted nothing more than to hold onto that wave of rage that she was nearly swept up in, but she forced herself to push it back into her chest instead, falling back onto the bed as soon as she heard that familiar voice. “Just get in here.” 

The door opened once more as Marzia hesitantly peeked her head inside, eyes already starting to glaze over with the start of her tears. When Chiara made no move to throw her out, she quietly slipped inside, careful to shut the door behind her before she hurried over to the bed to sit next to her sister. 

“You heard all of that, huh?” 

Marzia nodded. “Are you really-” 

“Yeah.” 

She cut off that question before Marzia could even get it out. Chiara didn’t think she could handle hearing someone actually confirm what had just happened yet. 

“But _Mamma_ said you were supposed to wait.” Marzia’s voice steadily rose shriller in pitch although her volume remained little more than a whisper. “Sanem’s not supposed to be here and you were going to have a few more years! What are you going to do? What should I do? What about Isa-”

“ _I don’t know!_ ” 

She stopped as soon as Marzia flinched back, the tense scowl slipping away. Of course she would lash out at the one person who didn’t deserve it. 

“I don’t know.” 

It took everything in Chiara’s body to force her temper back down in order to get those words out. But even then, she knew it wasn’t enough. She knew she should apologize because Marzia really shouldn’t have to deal with all of her problems just to drag them both down. 

Before she could say another word though, Marzia scooted herself closer in order to wrap her up in a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what to do either.” 

It was the wrong way around and Chiara wanted to throttle Marzia for being such a selfless person yet again, but she firmly kept her mouth shut. She already made the mistake of spilling too much at once today. 

“You’ll have to go see Mari to plan the rest of the wedding, right? Maybe she’ll know what to do.” Marzia rocked from side to side, consequently bringing Chiara along with her in her mumbled train of thought. “I’m sure there’s something we can do. There has to be.” 

Of course there wasn’t. Chiara had settled all of her hopes on her future on the vague dream that Isabella might be able to come back someday, and that fragile belief had already shattered the same morning it was formed. But she couldn’t tell that to Marzia, who only worked so hard to offer some kind of solution. 

Chiara let out a sigh, letting her head loll onto Marzia's shoulder as she sank into the mattress. She had already ruined things enough just by opening her mouth, and if Marzia was willing to start filling in the void with a one-sided conversation for her, then she was more than willing to let that happen. 

Even if she still felt the sharp twist of guilt in her chest the longer Marzia had to keep struggling for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's her!! it's our paris!!! the one character here who's literally made of red flags!!! i hated the original paris so much i thought adding some depth to sanem might redeem his character but nope, still a trash person and they both Suck. also, i do have a deleted scene with andrea's reaction to isa's letter that takes place at the same time as this chapter for anyone who might be interested [here](https://qionow.tumblr.com/post/619976924947709952/isabellas-letter). just couldn't fit it in, so it was banished to tumblr


	37. Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> The Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Anneliese wasn’t sure how long the curtains to her room had been kept shut, but she was thankful nonetheless for the lack of light at the moment. 

Healing was a dull process, one that remained undeniably monotonous even to her. It was tedious to wait for her body to finally start recovering, but eventually, the sharp burning pain that stabbed through her abdomen every time she tried to shift herself eased itself out into a faint discomfort that occasionally burst into a temporary ache if she turned the wrong way. 

There was still little she could do on her own, but it was progress nonetheless. Unfortunately, without her mind fixating on the burn that the cut across her chest forced her attention to, Anneliese found herself with too much time and too many thoughts. 

Going around in circles playing the judge and dissecting the days that led up to her confinement in bed came all too naturally to her for her comfort. Looking at the mess of emotion and impulsive mistakes that burst forward from those memories with a rational eye was all she could do at this point, but even she had to wonder if she was being completely objective.

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the pillow as she did her best to channel her thoughts back to the broad wound on her chest. If she focused enough, she could feel the soreness around that area, the tender skin around her wound that was slowly repairing itself back up. 

But she wasn’t the one with the worst wound yet.

Anneliese’s eyes snapped back open once she heard the door open, making to sit up only to be harshly reminded of the fact that she had a sword nearly cut open her stomach. She fell back onto the bed with a grunt, squinting as soon as the light from the hall flooded her room. 

Even if she couldn’t clearly make out the figure in the doorway, she still knew exactly who had come to visit her again.

“It’s just me, Anna,” Elizabeta chided as she shut the door with her elbow, arms full with spare bandages. “And you know you shouldn’t be moving around yet.” 

Anneliese only let out a huff of acknowledgement.

“Force of habit.” She glanced up at the tense lines on Elizabeta’s face. “How was the meeting?” 

Those lines deepened as Elizabeta let out a deep exhale and sat down on the bedside, setting the bandages down next to her. 

“It went about as well as expected,” she replied, pulling the covers back and lifting the hem of Anneliese’s shirt up in order to carefully untie the ends of her bandages. “I thought things would fall apart a little faster than they did though.” 

“Sanem’s still here?” 

Elizabeta gave a curt nod. 

“Octavia’s trying to plan out the rest of the marriage with her now." The corner of Elizabeta's lips quirked down into a frown as she set the soiled bandages aside, clean white dotted with a murky red. “Those poor girls. They just can't catch a break."

Anneliese tensed at the mention of the sisters, a reaction she just barely managed to catch in time to suppress it again. She agreed, of course, but she doubted that her opinion would be welcome at the moment in anything concerning those two.

“Does that hurt?” 

She grimaced when Elizabeta briefly pressed against the center of her wound, but no sound left her mouth until that pressure was released. “No.” 

She didn’t even have to look at Elizabeta to know that a disapproving stare was being directed right at her for that one. 

“It’s better than before,” she finally amended. 

Anneliese knew Elizabeta still wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but she only let out a quiet hum in response. 

“You’re lucky Isabella didn’t get to stab you.” Elizabeta carefully rewound a fresh set of bandages around her abdomen, making sure to avoid irritating the scar that was only just starting to heal properly. “I don’t think there would be much I could do if she did.” 

A pair of bright scarlet eyes briefly flashed through Anneliese’s mind before she could properly redirect her thoughts again. She wondered briefly if Elizabeta could tell where her thoughts head gone when she let out a heavy sigh from her perch on the bed.

“Anna,” Elizabeta said quietly. “You’re smarter than this. You knew going after them was a bad idea.” 

Anneliese said nothing as Elizabeta pulled the blankets back up, hiding the pale white bandages from view. There really wasn’t much she could say when Elizabeta was looking at her with the same kind of sympathetic pity that she gave the sisters so often.

“Was Chiara right?” 

Anneliese froze as soon as that hushed question left Elizabeta’s mouth. “What?” 

Elizabeta wasn’t deterred by her roundabout answer though, only watching on with quiet patience. “About Julchen.” 

Anneliese opened her mouth with a firm _no_ ready to answer, but she paused before that word could actually come out properly. It was an instinctive response, but it still held some bit of truth in it. 

The only problem was, she didn’t know exactly how much of that sentiment was true.

“I don’t know.” 

Elizabeta nodded, but she said nothing and Anneliese knew she was giving her the chance to speak for once. At first she didn’t intend on answering at all, but a new idea quietly diverted that course of action. 

Elizabeta had never seen what had happened for herself and was about as far from the mess as one could possibly be. If anything, she would be the one with the most rational opinion by far.

So she simply cleared her throat and waited until Elizabeta kept her gaze locked on her.

“Elizabeta,” she said quietly, “can I ask you something?” 

She wasn’t surprised when Elizabeta gave her a comforting smile. 

“Of course Anna.” Elizabeta smoothed out her skirt over her legs and settled herself back down. “What is it?” 

Anneliese had to pause before she could give her answer. If she was being honest with herself, there were really multiple questions she had that she couldn’t figure out herself. But questions on personal morality were things that she would deal with alone, especially if the more pressing issue at hand involved so many more people outside of herself. 

“Was this my fault?” 

Elizabeta’s kind smile immediately dropped into an apologetic look, one filled to the brim with hesitance. “I can’t answer that for you-” 

“You don’t have to,” Anneliese said briskly. “I just want to know your opinion.” 

That certainly caused Elizabeta to pause, letting out a contemplative hum. 

“My opinion?” She waited until Anneliese gave her another short nod before she let herself relax again. “Yes, I can do that.” 

Elizabeta kept her thoughtful gaze on her and Anneliese prepared herself to let a new person fill the role of the judge for once.

“Do you mind if I ask you what happened first?” Elizabeta murmured. “Everything’s gone by so fast and I still don’t know what was going on.” 

“Of course.” 

And Anneliese allowed her case to retell itself once more.

“I saw Julchen the night I caught Marzia and Chiara.” Anneliese kept her voice as neutral as she could, stating the facts as the solid evidence they were. “We got into-” 

She faltered.

“We got into an argument.” 

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow, although she still had yet to show any signs of a bias, thankfully. “An argument?” 

Anneliese nodded, despite the fact that she already knew that there was a much more accurate, albeit violent, word to describe that certain conflict. 

“I see.” Elizabeta settled back down. “Go on.” 

“I left her to find Chiara and Marzia and found Isabella and Monika with them as well.” She paused. “I’m sure you know what happened after that.” 

Thankfully, Elizabeta didn’t press any further than that, only nodding much to Anneliese’s relief. She wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to vocally recount the fight and the certain verdict of guilt she had placed on herself just yet.

“Why did you two start fighting?”

Anneliese's shoulders tensed at the question before she forced herself to relax. An inquiry like that was inevitable after all, and there was no point in dragging in out for so long.

“She was just there to distract me so they had time to get in and out,” she reported, her voice clipped with each word. “But she tried to act like she was there out of her own free will. To befriend me.” 

Anneliese caught the flicker of doubt that cast itself across Elizabeta’s face and felt that tension start to build up once more.

Elizabeta’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, lips pursing together before she slowly felt out her next question. “Are you sure about that?” 

“Why are you asking?” 

Anneliese already knew she was being too snappy before Elizabeta even got a chance to give her that wide-eyed stare.

“I’m not saying anything about you yet, Anna,” she said quietly. “Julchen just doesn’t seem like the type of person to do something like that.” 

_“But she did!”_

Anneliese barely managed to catch her volume, but her voice still managed to tear itself from her throat before she could stop it. She was ready to throw forward all of the accusations and evidence she had spent so many hours laboring over, all of the guilt that piled itself onto her shoulders before she managed to toss it onto Julchen's, but that drive quickly died down when she saw Elizabeta’s stunned face. Fiery rage simmered down into a burning shame as she brought her eyes back down to her lap.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to get carried away.” 

But Elizabeta, of course Elizabeta, only reached out to pat her hand, smoothing out their tight grip on the sheets. “Anna, you don’t need to apologize for just feeling things.” 

Anneliese could beg to differ.

When she offered no answer, Elizabeta pursed her lips for a moment, brow furrowed with concentration before she tested out her judgement.

“I don’t think this was your fault,” she said slowly, “but I don’t think it was her’s either.” 

Anneliese was certain her confusion was clear as day on her face by the way Elizabeta hurried to explain herself.

“Julchen’s brash and she’s rude, but she’s not cruel. I don’t think she thought this out as much as you think she did.” 

And Anneliese understood at that point that her rationale hadn’t been quite as objective as she thought it had been.

“I see.” 

She took a moment to roll over the foreign perspective in her head, doing her best to wrap her mind around Elizabeta’s words. 

“Do you regret it?” 

Anneliese started, jolted out of her thoughts by Elizabeta’s gentle question. “What?” 

“Hurting her.” Elizabeta’s eyes held the kind of sympathetic determination to them that Anneliese had seen her give out so often. “If you had the choice, would you stop yourself before you went out to fight her?” 

Anneliese didn’t even have to think before the answer came rushing out of her mouth.

“Of course! I-” 

“There you go,” Elizabeta interrupted smoothly. “You both made mistakes, but at least you’re willing to fix it. I don’t think I can blame you for that.” 

It was a sentence so wildly different from the ones Anneliese had crafted in her own mind. The blame shifted daily from her hands to Julchen’s that to have that weight completely lifted from either of them was an experience that left her unsure on how to continue. 

Elizabeta seemed to understand at the very least as she leaned down to pat Anneliese’s hand a final time. “You’ve had too much time on your hands, and that’s the first time that’s happened, I think.” 

Anneliese only hummed vacantly in response, focus already narrowing down on their conversation. It was a silent request for privacy that Elizabeta took with grace as she glanced back down at Anneliese.

“I have to go check on the kitchen soon,” she mumbled quietly. “Will you be alright on your own?” 

Anneliese only nodded briefly, waving a dismissive hand in her general direction. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead.” 

“Alright.” Elizabeta slowly sat up, gathering up the discarded bandages in her arms once more. “Call for me if you need anything, ok?” 

Anneliese nodded as Elizabeta sighed, rushing back to the door. She watched for a moment as her figure reached the doorframe, hesitating before she finally let herself speak up one last time just as Elizabeta was about to leave.

“Eliza?” 

When Elizabeta paused and glanced over her shoulder, Anneliese bowed her head.

“Thank you.” 

She knew her gratefulness had made its mark when Elizabeta’s eyes widened before they crinkled up with a warm smile.

“You’re welcome, Anna.”

With that, Elizabeta was gone, quietly shutting the door behind her as Anneliese was left alone in her room once again. 

Now, she had nothing but time to take in her new judgement, and while that would have been enough for her, Anneliese found another thought that popped into her head. 

She knew vaguely that it was a bad idea and that she should just lie back down and wait for Elizabeta to return later, but she still couldn’t quite shake that notion off. 

Anneliese glanced at the door once more, as if Elizabeta would come rushing back in the second her mind turned toward those more traitorous thoughts. But nobody came and that was enough for her as she slowly started to push herself back up onto her palms before anyone could. 

She winced at the too-tender feeling of the bandages rubbing against her wound, but it was merely a discomfort at best. Nothing that would hinder her movement. 

Working ever so carefully, Anneliese managed to push herself off of the bed, forced to lean against her nightstand for a moment before she could regain her balance completely. Her muscles protested their sudden use quite immensely, but being able to start moving on her own again was something that still pulled a huge burden off of her shoulders. 

She paused when she caught a glimpse of silver in the corner of her eye, turning to find the two fragments of Julchen’s mask kicked away into the corner where she had left them. Slowly, careful to avoid re-opening her cut, she made her way over, crouching down to pick the pieces up with one hand keeping her bandages pressed tight to her abdomen as she studied them. 

Even broken, the mask still held its beauty in the fine ornamentation and craftsmanship. It was just as regal as the night Julchen had worn it herself, when she had decided to approach Anneliese for the first time and when it had first been tossed at her feet as a parting gift she didn't intend on keeping.

Anneliese straightened herself back up as she set the mask on her desk with a steady hand, careful to avoid breaking it any further.

She had taken the luxury of rest to heal herself for long enough. It was about time she started working to mend the damage she had caused instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good god this was hard to get out for some reason. probably bc i've been distracted with coming up with ideas for the 2p gals but shhh


	38. To Soothe The Plague

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria) 
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

In all honesty, Julchen was surprised that she had managed to bully Monika out of her room that night. 

That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t grateful for her sister’s presence at her side, but as the hours and days started to melt together, even she needed a break from Monika’s persistent guard. She didn't even need to ask her to know that it had started the second her body made it back home.

The trip back to the castle was a complete blur to her, one filled with disembodied voices and frantic commands being shouted left and right until she could barely tell where she was anymore.

But she remembered the pain. The way she fought against the guards who tried to carry her back to her room and the burning in her stomach as if someone had pressed a burning iron into her skin until the flesh was all but melted away. 

Sleep overtook her after those neverending hours, guiding her in and out of consciousness until the world became little more than a drowsy view of her room before she slipped back into her dreams. In those moments where she managed to get her eyes open though, she remembered seeing Monika at her side each time, their mother occasionally looming over them both in a sporadic game of chance. 

Julchen had no idea how long Monika had kept herself stationed at her bedside, but she knew it was long enough when she finally started to spend more time awake than asleep and still found her sister next to her. It had taken more than a little show of bravado to convince Monika to sleep in her own room, but even that required numerous assurances and a few creative threats before Monika reluctantly agreed to leave.

But now, she finally had her room to herself and she could take in the calm of the night around her on her own for once. It wasn’t like she could get up to enjoy it, much less go outside, but she could still turn her head to glance out the window. 

Night settled itself gracefully over Verona’s shoulders, wisping through the streets and batted back by the dots of flames from the torches that Julchen just barely managed to make out. It was the kind of night that called for peace, not one she would have used to go out and wreak havoc in. 

She perked up when she heard the faint sound of footsteps pacing by her door, only to pass right by her and continue down the hall without missing a beat. It wasn’t uncommon for the servants around the castle to work into the night, quietly maneuvering throughout the stone halls with a practiced silence that Julchen had long since learned to tune out.

That was why the faint clicking of well-tailored boots against the stone floors that followed soon after stood out so vividly to Julchen.

Panic quickly forced itself back into her head, wild and uncompromising, with no solution in sight to ease it out. All she could do was lie and wait with the dread pressing down onto her chest, pinning her onto the mattress until she could barely catch enough air to keep her mind clear. 

Each step grew clearer and clearer until they paused just in front of her room, the sound too clear to be ignored. Julchen could do nothing to acknowledge it though, only able to hope that her imagination had taken a leap too far when she pictured who was on the other side.

Ever so slowly, the door creaked open and Julchen could have sworn her heart stopped when she saw Anneliese, figure barely illuminated by the faint moonlight that streamed in through her window.

Her hand jolted to her hip for a weapon that wasn’t there, grasping at the sheets instead in a reflexive grip. She had felt cautious around Anneliese before, but that was when she could actually move to defend herself should anything go wrong. 

Now, she was alone, hurt and completely vulnerable with Anneliese fully armed at her doorstep. 

And Julchen had never felt more afraid in her life. 

She could only stare at first, muscles locking in place with the crashing alarm ringing through her head. She didn’t even know if she could speak at that point with her heart threatening to leap out of her throat, but Anneliese offered no indication that she would attempt to alleviate the despair that threatened to drown Julchen in her spot. 

At that point, there was little left to do but accept the sentence that Anneliese brought with her.

“You’re already here,” she muttered. “Hurry up and get this over with.” 

Anneliese only stared at her for a moment, the picture of regal power painted ever so easily before her eyes as she nodded. When she made her way over to the bed, Julchen felt her heart skip a beat, tensing in preparation for the familiar pain once again as her figure loomed closer and closer until she was just next to her, where Monika used to sit. 

She watched Anneliese’s hand carefully, waiting for the moment when it would reach for the handle of her sword once more. 

“I-” Anneliese paused, fingers curling into a tight fist once before they relaxed again, visibly steeling her resolve in a way that Julchen forced herself to mirror, if only for her own sake.

“I came to apologize. For my actions.” 

Her hands interlocked themselves behind her back, completely passing by her sword, and Julchen barely managed to catch her words as her eyes locked onto her averted path with disbelief.

“I acted rashly and you suffered as a result of it,” she murmured, none of the firm conviction that Julchen had come to expect from her present in her tone. “I didn’t mean to cause so much damage to you or your family.” 

The shock finally started to set in while Anneliese kept her gaze fixed on the covers, blind to the sheer disbelief written all over Julchen's face. 

“I shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me. I don’t know how I should have handled it, but I know I shouldn’t have tried to go after you.” 

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

“There are things that I still can’t help but blame you for, but what I did was beyond inappropriate.” 

She wasn’t supposed to be talking. She was supposed to be out the door while Julchen would be left to bleed out in her own bed with nobody around to help her.

“I don’t expect you to accept my apologies. I only came to offer them nonetheless. Please do with that what you will.” 

And that was it. 

Anneliese kept her eyes lowered respectfully and did nothing else. She didn’t move to draw her sword, didn’t move to strangle her; she did nothing. 

Julchen couldn’t believe it.

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

The whole night was starting to feel like one large fever dream to the point where Julchen wondered vaguely if her wound had been infected before it was wrapped up. But judging by the way Anneliese stared at her as if she had just started talking in another language, Julchen wasn’t alone in feeling some similar sort of confusion. 

“What?” 

Julchen waited for the twist that would inevitably end with another sword lodged in her stomach, but that turn of events never came, leaving her at a loss on how to continue. Her emotions suspended themselves in the air around her, leaving behind a void that she could only attempt to bridge with a grin in the face of absurdity.

“You just couldn’t save the fancy speech for my funeral, huh?” Julchen shook her head. “God, you could have started with the big apology before you jumped to the dramatic walking."

But Anneliese still didn’t seem to be able to connect the dots even though Julchen could see her irritation visibly start to creep back onto her face. “What on earth are you talking about?” 

Julchen only raised an eyebrow at that, instinctive humor in full force as her voice dripped with the ease that came with pure bewilderment. “I thought you were here to kill me. Finish the job or whatever.” 

In a flash, that frustration was snapped away as Anneliese’s jaw dropped with horror.

“You thought-” 

Her voice was barely above a whisper, easily swept up by the tense silence that settled between them before it was broken by her wavering exhale. 

Anneliese dropped her head, closing her eyes for a brief moment as one gloved hand came up to cover her face. Julchen couldn’t tell what exactly she was trying to hide, but there wasn’t much time left to try and figure it out when Anneliese finally looked back up at her with a glossy sheen to her eyes that Julchen couldn’t remember seeing before.

“I suppose that’s justified,” she said quietly, with perhaps the most conviction that Julchen had heard from her the entire night.

Anneliese certainly seemed to regard that statement as an unchangeable truth as she curled back into herself with shame, shoulders hunched over ever so slightly compared to her usual rigid posture.

Everything about the night was already turning out to be something from beyond Julchen’s wildest dreams, but the reality of Anneliese’s words couldn’t be ignored after she had already thrown them out into the air between them.

“Come on,” she sighed, allowing the carefree facade to drop in order to make way for the hushed sincerity. “You’re not the only one who needs to apologize.” 

She wondered vaguely if the skepticism that flickered across Anneliese’s face was what Anneliese had seen on her as she stepped into her room.

“You were right. Back by the garden.” Julchen watched carefully for any signs of some potential rage that could build up only to find a tense neutrality. “I was supposed to keep you out of the house and away from those sisters.” 

Julchen didn’t bother to pause and wait for Anneliese to respond, pushing forward without a break to force the rest of her words out.

“But I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you,” she continued. “Didn’t really think about how that would come off if I got caught, but I meant it.”

Julchen studied Anneliese’s face for a moment and let a hint of the emotion she had kept hidden away under layers of levity flow from her.

“I still do now.”

At first, Anneliese only gave her a blank stare, offering nothing for Julchen to work with before her posture slumped, washing away the rigid image of control she carried with it.

“We both messed this up, didn’t we?”

Julchen couldn’t stop the harsh laugh that burst from her chest, letting the bitterness seep into her voice uncontrolled. “Damn right we did.”

She let her head fall back onto the pillow, forcing the rush of emotion that flowed through her in the past few minutes back out with a heavy groan.

“I’m tired, Annie,” Julchen murmured. “I’m tired of all this.” 

Anneliese seemed to be conflicted with those words, visibly musing over her message with tension riding all over her body. Eventually though, that steadfast train of thought relaxed and Julchen caught a glimpse of someone she had never seen before. 

Anneliese had always been one to stay on the alert, to keep a keen eye out and a stern hand raised for the rules that guided her life with little regard for those who broke them. But for once, Julchen saw her shrug off the heavy burden of playing executioner with the first tinges of regret, leaving behind an exhausted woman in the stead of a noble guardian. 

“I am too.”

Her voice held none of the steady formality or critical sting Julchen had come to associate with her, only vocalizing the very same exhaustion that Julchen felt. 

Perhaps in a way, they weren’t so different after all. 

It made sense in a way that Julchen hadn't considered before. High-class duties and the weight of responsibility wore them both down before her very eyes, even if Anneliese was exceptionally skilled at hiding the toll her job took on her. 

She was more than willing to shut the world out for a break before she could charge back in to change it on her own, but the notion that she wasn't quite as alone as she had thought was one that Julchen was more than willing to accept.

Even if the companion she had with her wasn't who she had thought it would be.

“Here.” Julchen patted the bed idly to the empty spot by her side. “Sit down.” 

Anneliese glanced at her hand before she looked back up to her face, no hidden amount of caution written all over her. “Are you sure?” 

Julchen only nodded, offering her a brief grin as she waved her head in a vague gesture to get her to move. “Just get over here.” 

That was all it took to get Anneliese to obey, carefully settling herself down on the edge all while keeping a close eye on Julchen for any signs that she could have jostled her. 

There was no hidden rivalry, no need for arguments or family loyalties to get in the way. For now, it was just the two of them and Julchen had never been so relieved to have it that way before.

“How did you even get in?” 

Anneliese startled at the question, eyeing her curiously before she cleared her throat. Julchen had thought she would offer some curt explanation, but she certainly didn't think her cheeks would start to flush with a dark red before she even managed to say a word.

“Through the servant’s entrance,” she replied quietly. “Nobody seemed to be watching it when I arrived.” 

It took a minute for the meaning behind her explanation to set in, but the second it did, Julchen’s lips curled up into a wide grin.

“You snuck in.” The sudden burst of color that spread all the way down to Anneliese's neck was enough of a confirmation of that sentence, much to Julchen's delight. “You snuck in!” 

Julchen couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that tore itself from her chest, even if each heaving breath stung at her stomach. It was all worth it to see Anneliese get herself flustered once again, the sight nearly bringing tears to her eyes. 

“That’s a rather crude way of putting it,” she muttered, although her eyes were fixed completely on the wall. 

“It’s a crude way of breaking in!” Julchen shot back cheerfully, her cheeks aching from the force of her smile. 

It was all so absurd, but it was exactly the way Julchen wanted it. 

It wasn’t the desperate confusion that led to endless accusations and heart-wrenching panic, but the pleasant surprise of the unknown coming to light. The sense of exploration that came with a companion who was just as lost as she was eased Julchen back into the eager nature she had lost in those hectic days and she was nothing short of grateful for it.

“Oh, Annie, you’re wonderful.” 

And Julchen meant it. 

The way her deep violet eyes widened was wonderful, the way her grip on the sheets tightened for a moment, the way her mouth opened and closed for a moment without a word coming out of it. 

But above all, the way her lips finally curled up into a small smile, face still burning a dark red with a hint of enjoyment, was absolutely wonderful to Julchen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like the quality is starting to devolve again, but at least we're starting act 4 now so there's that? making progress one excessive adjective at a time


	39. Nightshade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Friar Lawrence - Marianne Bonnefoy (Fem! France)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria) 
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

“Do you think she’s ok?” 

Chiara glanced to her side when Marzia nudged her arm, only to have her line of sight quickly redirected back forward with a nod from Marzia. 

“Who cares?” she mumbled back, eyeing the figure currently leading them with distaste. “She can mind her own damn business.” 

To be fair, Marzia did have a reason to question Anneliese’s appearance. 

The streets were already starting to fill up with the start of the new day, eager merchants and hasty citizens alike scrambling to get to their destination before the oppressive heat started to kick in. Such a steadily growing crowd would usually be enough to get Anneliese on guard, but all she did was keep trudging forward with barely a glance around her, pace unusually slow compared to her usual brisk tempo and rapt attention to detail. 

“She looks so tired though,” Marzia whispered, lips briefly curling down into a concerned frown with no hidden amount of worry. “Maybe we should have asked Eliza to come instead.” 

Chiara only shook her head at that, a scowl quickly jumping onto her face when presented with Marzia’s too-kind alternative.

“She deserves it.” 

She didn't say another word after that, forcing their conversation to an abrupt halt as she kept her gaze fixed on Anneliese’s back and well away from her sister. 

While Marzia may have had the impression that the reason behind Anneliese’s sudden lack of energy was more innocent, Chiara had no such illusions. She knew when something was being hidden from her, but at this point, it wasn't as if there was anything she could do about it anyways even if she wanted to find out what it was. 

She still kept a close eye on Anneliese all the way through the square though, up until they climbed the stone steps of the church and for a brief respite from the unyielding sun above them. 

Even then, Anneliese had yet to say a word, only glancing behind her shoulder once before she turned back around to rap her knuckles against the heavy wooden door. 

Chiara didn’t miss the heavy purple bags under her eyes in that brief glimpse of her face, although there wasn’t much time for her to muse over it though as the door slowly opened to reveal Marianne’s pleased smile on the other side. 

“Oh?” she hummed. “Now this is a surprise.” 

Anneliese politely bowed her head in response, although exactly how much of the intent behind that action was to hide her appearance compared to following actual formalities was unknown to Chiara. “I apologize for intruding, but Chiara insisted on starting the wedding preparations herself. If you prefer for us to return later, I can take them home now.” 

Marianne paused, eyes wide with surprise as she turned to face Chiara. “I thought you would rather leave that to your mother. You want to start them now?” 

Chiara nearly faltered under the sheer confusion on Marianne’s face, but she forced herself to keep her face as stoic as she could get it to be. She couldn’t afford to be turned away now after all she had done to get to this point. 

“It’s still my damn wedding,” she shot back, crossing her arms with a glare and pointedly ignoring the stern look she knew Anneliese was sending her way. "I'll plan it out myself."

“I see.” Marianne nodded to herself, although her confusion was still clear in her eyes as she turned to Marzia. “And you’re here to join her?” 

“Mhm!” Marzia rocked back on her heels with an innocent smile, as if she hadn’t snuck into Chiara’s room earlier that day to figure out how they would manage to get her in as well. “Chiara gets really grumpy about stuff like this, but she doesn’t really know what to do, so I thought I would help! That’s ok, right?” 

Anneliese let out a heavy sigh as soon as she stopped talking, briefly shutting her eyes and rubbing at her temples with one gloved hand. 

“She insisted on joining us this morning,” she murmured, “but I can take her back if you wish to speak to Chiara alone.” 

At first, Marianne only looked between them with that same lost look on her face before her gaze finally settled on Chiara. 

Her shoulders tensed instinctively when Marianne only studied her for a moment before her eyes widened ever so slightly, a brief moment of understanding flashing through her face before it was quickly covered up by her quiet laughter. 

“I don’t see why she can’t stay,” she said. “There is nothing wrong with having a little company around.” 

Something about that quick acceptance unsettled Chiara more than if Marianne had just turned them away, the unanswered question of just how much Marianne could see in front of her right now lingering in her mind long enough to sour her thoughts. 

Marzia, on the other hand, was either a better actress than Chiara originally thought or naive enough to remain blind to the tension ahead of them as she beamed back at Marianne.

“Thank you Mari!” she chirped, only to let out a yelp when Anneliese gave her a firm nudge. “I mean, Sister Marianne!” 

Marianne only waved off her faux pas though, stepping aside without any sign of offense. “It is nothing. Now please, come in. I’m sure standing around is uncomfortable.” 

Marzia quickly darted inside, but Chiara was slower to follow after her. There was something just a little off that she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but the discrepancy was enough to have her on edge as she made her way past Marianne. Once she met her eyes, Marianne’s smile widened ever so slightly, but that was all she did as Chiara set foot inside the church. 

“I’ll send for you once we’re finished,” Marianne said easily, turning back to Anneliese with a wave. “Thank you for bringing them over to me.” 

Anneliese only bowed her head once more, clasping her hands behind her back. “Of course. Have a good day, Sister.” 

Marianne quietly closed the door again, the heavy thud of the wood reverberating throughout the grand halls as she let out a soft sigh before she turned around to face them with nothing short of pride on her face.

“Clever girls, both of you.”

Chiara could have sworn her heart had never stopped so quickly in her life and judging by the way Marzia suddenly paled, her sister was certainly feeling something similar. 

But Marianne only laughed, reaching over to clasp a gentle hand on each of their shoulders to give them a light squeeze. 

“There is no need to look so worried,” she said easily. “I am just impressed that you managed to come up with this on your own. Using the preparations was a good idea.” 

Chiara could only sputter out half-thought excuses at that. “You-” 

“Please, give me some credit.” Marianne’s smile warmed ever so slightly. “I assume you are here to avoid this wedding, yes?” 

Chiara glanced over to Marzia, who only stared back at her with shock. All of their plans to break the real purpose of their visit to Marianne were blown away in the blink of an eye and without that guiding structure, Chiara found herself at a loss on what to do next. 

“Yeah,” she muttered, the words slow to leave her mouth now that she was in unfamiliar territory. 

Thankfully, that seemed to be enough for Marianne as her face softened once more before she gave one last squeeze and she let her hand fall. “That is what I thought.” 

She turned to make her way down the hall, glancing over her shoulder in order to wave them along. 

“Come,” she said. “I think we all need to sit down for this.” 

Chiara couldn’t agree more at that point, sharing one tentative look with Marzia before she silently made to follow. The echoing click of their footsteps down the empty halls did little to pull her mind from its reeling pullback, sent into a daze until Marianne opened the door to her study. 

The small room was just how Chiara remembered it, filled with old bookshelves and only illuminated by the candle that rested on the faded desk in the center. Marianne herself certainly fit in with the well-used room, settling herself on the other side of her desk without a beat of hesitation. 

“Please, make yourselves comfortable.” She gestured towards the two chairs just opposite from her. “I think I have scared you both enough today.”

Chiara eyed Marzia as she quickly obeyed and took the chair on the left, slowly following suit as she looked over Marianne again. 

A moment of silence settled over the room as Marianne took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly before she opened them with a soft exhale to glance between them.

“Now I do have a, let us call it, alternative for you,” Marianne said gently. “But I can save that for later.” 

She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands together in her lap and looking about as relaxed as Chiara was nervous. “What I want to know now is if you have any questions for me.” 

Chiara nearly waved her off without a second thought, mouth already open to hurry her along when she paused. 

She faltered under Marianne’s patient gaze, unable to stifle the brief flicker of hope once it had lit itself back up at the possibility of getting the answer she had no way of finding herself.

“Is Isabella okay?” she finally murmured, forcing herself to bite the words out and get an answer before her shame fully enveloped her.

It nearly got the chance to as well when Marianne’s face briefly lapsed into surprise, eyes wide with shock before they crinkled up once more with an understanding smile. 

“From what I hear, she is doing well,” she reported. “Settled down in Mantua, I believe. Not too far away, compared to where she could have gone.” 

Chiara felt some of the tension fall from her shoulders, slumping back into her own seat. She didn’t know when that tension had came about to begin with, but she was thankful nonetheless that those hidden anxieties could be put to rest. 

Still, a hint of that confusion lingered behind as Marianne looked her over with something akin to relief. 

“I take it that you’ve been worried about her.” 

Chiara couldn’t even bring herself to confirm that statement, although it seemed as if she didn’t need to if the knowing look on Marianne’s face said anything about it. “Just tell me your damn plan.” 

Marianne paused for a moment before she finally nodded, smile slipping away into a contemplative purse of her lips. 

“Of course,” she replied slowly. “But I’m afraid I have a question for you as well.”

Chiara paused when she saw the calculating look on her face as she looked up to meet her eyes, sharp violet eyes picking apart her mind to get the answer they searched for.

“How much are you willing to do for Isabella?” 

Chiara had to take a moment to think about that question before she could give her answer. 

A part of her, instinctive to the core, was ready to give the response that all lovers were supposed to give; to put her life on the line for her as was expected. But the nagging whisper of her own cowardice slowly pulled that option from her grasp, because really, what _was_ she willing to do for Isabella if there was so little that she could do for herself?

She wondered for a moment if she could come up with an answer at all when she finally realized that she had given her answer long ago before that question was even vocalized, when she had her first dance and snuck Isabella away to the safety of her home together.

“Anything.” 

Her voice steeled itself with her resolve, shutting out the persistent accusations in her head with that final declaration.

Marianne only looked her over though, matching Chiara's firm stare with one of her own. “Would you be willing to live for her?” 

That certainly caused Chiara to freeze, lips curling down with momentary confusion. 

“Live?” she repeated, although the answering nod did little to clarify that for her. “Isn’t the question usually about dying?” 

Marianne nodded, leaning forward in order to rest her arms on her desk.

“It is, but in this case, dying would be much easier than living for you. The lonely way out, you could say,” she said quietly. “You could be reunited in death, but if you wish to live for her, you must be willing to fight instead.” 

She looked back up, face tense with thought.

“So tell me, will you live for her?”

Chiara knew when a challenge was being presented to her, but for once, this wasn’t one that she had to force herself to accept. The answer came naturally to her and she had faith that it was one she could follow through with.

“Yes.” 

As soon as she spoke, Marianne relaxed once more, nodding to herself as she slouched ever so slightly.

“Good,” she mumbled. “Good.” 

All of her hidden prodding seemed to be discarded in favor of a silent musing, strained contemplation softening up into a kind expression that had come to be common on Marianne.

“I will warn you now, there is much at stake here.” Marianne looked between them with equal amounts of concern, hushing herself in order to soothe them both. “What I have in mind will not be easy for either of you. You will not be able to go back after this. What happens now must stay between us, do you understand?” 

Chiara quickly nodded, briefly catching a glimpse of Marzia doing the same next to her with barely a moment of hesitation. 

That seemed to be enough for Marianne as well as she pulled her arm back to open her desk drawer, the sound of faded paper rustling for a moment before she pulled her hand back to reveal a small glass vial filled with a dark purple liquid that Chiara couldn’t quite identify.

Marianne gently set it down onto the desk, the flame of the candle briefly flashing the murky violet into a bright lavender.

“Now this is deadly nightshade,” she explained quietly. “Too much could kill you, but with just enough, it can induce a, _coma_ , of sorts. Something to mimic death, if you will.” 

It didn’t take long for Chiara to connect the dots, voice flat as she stared at the seemingly innocent liquid just before her.

“You want me to take that.” 

As soon as Marianne gave a nod in confirmation, Marzia’s face twisted into worry as she leaned forward in her seat, digging her nails into the armrests with a tight grip.

“Is that really safe?” she asked quickly, pitch already jumping up in her rush to get her question out. 

However, Marianne only waved her sudden concern off with a casual hand.

“I know my garden very well, Marzia,” she replied, her voice soft to ease out the hidden tension that strung Marzia up. “You do not need to worry. Think of it as an extended sleep. There is not nearly enough here to risk certain death.”

Even with that, Marzia’s face never quite relaxed as she turned to face Chiara, grip tightening on the armrest as she scanned her face.

“Chiara, are you sure about this?” 

Marzia’s worries seemed to be contagious, slowly seeping into Chiara’s own mind with twisted images of all of the possible ways her journey into the very delicate border between sleep and death could tip out of her favor. It seemed as if Marianne caught onto her sudden hesitation as well when she drew the vial closer to her with a worried frown.

“Remember, you do not have to do this,” she reminded them. “If you want, this conversation will have never happened.”

Chiara knew that already and the fact that Marianne had to repeat it yet again sparked a flicker of irritation that she couldn’t quite stop. The fact that she was still doubting herself picked at her head, breaking apart everything else she used to hide it because she couldn’t do what Isabella had done for her. 

She didn’t sneak into Isabella’s home, she didn’t nearly die for her and she didn’t get banished for her, but Isabella had done all of that so readily for her. 

Chiara clenched her jaw and forced herself to give her answer.

"I’ll do it.”

It was about time she started sacrificing what little she had left to offer after everything that Isabella had given up for her.

Marzia still seemed concerned, but she said nothing to argue against her choice. Marianne, on the other hand, seemed to look over her with approval as she nodded to herself.

“Your funeral will certainly put the wedding off, but better than that,” she explained, “you will be dead to Verona.” 

Marianne set the vial back onto the desk, letting it rest between them as she spoke.

“If this is what you wish to do, I will write to Isabella later tonight so she can meet you in your tomb.” She gestured vaguely outwards with one hand, the other resting down on her desk. “From there, you can go wherever you please with her. It is not as if your family will be searching for you once you leave.” 

It was almost too good to be true. 

To be able to run away for once and truly leave behind the mess of a life that she had created for herself was something she could barely believe. But the very promise of that new start waited for her in that little vial, and now, Chiara was finally free to let those idle daydreams mold themselves into a reality.

“I get it,” she mumbled, holding her hand out expectantly with her palm out. “Just give it to me.”

Marianne only held the glass in her hand though, looking over it once more with a thoughtful stare. 

“I will, I will. But before that,” Marianne turned to study Marzia with the same intense look Chiara had just received not too long ago. “You must be willing to be silent about this.”

When Marzia looked rightfully terrified at the sudden draw of attention to her, Marianne continued on.

“It will not be easy.” Her gaze never faltered as she studied Marzia with something close to sympathy. “I can send your letters to her if I can still find her, but you will not be able to see your sister again. As far as this goes, only you and I will know where she will be, and that could easily change if this gets out to anybody else.” 

“You must understand how important it is that you do not speak to anyone about this.” Marianne’s face softened. “Can you do it?”

And Chiara felt the first pangs of guilt as she looked back at Marzia and saw the resignation on her face. 

It had never even occurred to her that Marzia would have to suffer more than she would now, and that thought was nearly enough for her to start her quick denial. 

Of course it was too good to be true. It would only hurt Marzia in the end and even if it stung at her to give up the solution she had clawed so desperately for, it was something she would force herself to let go. 

But before she could even say a word, Marzia’s face hardened with a new determination that Chiara had never seen before.

“I can do it,” she said firmly. “I _will_ do it.” 

Chiara could only stare blankly at her as Marzia turned to look at her with a small smile, bitter acceptance and heartfelt care battling back and forth in her every word.

“I can still be happy here,” she said, “but if you need to leave to be happy too, then I’ll help you.” 

Chiara’s mouth opened and closed for a second, just long enough to feel the brief sting in her eyes before she quickly brought a hand up to swipe over them. “Idiot.” 

She glanced back up when she heard a quiet sigh from the other side of the desk before Marianne held the vial out to her in one outstretched hand. 

“You are both so brave,” she said quietly, a regretful kind of awe in her face. “So brave for your age.” 

Chiara reached out to snatch the vial out of her hands without another word, holding it close in one clenched fist. She didn’t trust herself to speak just yet, not after that little episode.

However, Marzia as always was much more willing to talk, looking back at Marianne. 

“Thank you, Mari,” she murmurred, sincere gratefulness flowing from her words in a way that Chiara could never dream of replicating. 

Marianne was quick to wave her off though, only giving a humble nod of her head in return.

“It is no problem.” She turned her eyes back to Chiara with a pointed look at the vial now in her possession. “Just make sure you take that tonight. I’m afraid timing will be crucial in order for this to work.” 

Chiara only nodded along at first before she paused, forcing herself to steel her resolve once more as she glanced back up at Marianne.

“Thank you.” 

Her voice was little above a mumble, and for a moment, she wondered if Marianne had even heard it. That answer came quickly though when Marianne’s eyes briefly widened with surprise before she offered a warm smile back at her.

“It is the least I can do for you,” she finally replied, nothing but genuine belief in her words. “I wish you both the best of luck.” 

Marianne’s eyes flickered down to the vial in Chiara’s hand one last time.

“You will certainly need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> act 4 babey!!! time for some Bad Ideas!!! also, it's never really specified what friar lawrence gives to juliet, but i've seen a few people who think it might be deadly nightshade, so i just kinda went with that. sorry for the inaccuracy? if it is one? i don't know either :(


	40. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

It felt surreal to make her way back home, knowing it would be the last time she would see Verona again. 

A bittersweet kind of hope ran through Chiara's chest as she passed by the people who would only think of her as dead come morning, nostalgia and doubt swirling together in her head. 

She couldn't imagine what life would be like without the familiar city she had grown up in and a part of her dragged its heels to look for another solution, unwilling to give up the past just yet. 

But what would be the point of staying in Verona if all of those fond memories would be crushed under her marriage anyways?

The choices were grim, but when it came down to it, Chiara supposed the answer was obvious in the end. 

With that thought in mind, she took her time to take in the sweltering heat, the narrowed streets lined with stone, the things about Verona that stood out so clearly with Marzia at her side. 

Anneliese, on the other hand, had yet to say a word to either of them. 

Their goodbyes with Marianne had been simple enough. With a few words of praise from Marianne for her reform and the start of a brand new rant about a conversation that had never happened from Marzia, getting Anneliese to avoid questioning anything any further had been a breeze. 

Beyond avoiding questions though, it seemed as if Anneliese had forsaken speaking to them altogether.

Chiara supposed that her very presence played a large part in why Anneliese had chosen to stay so silent as she escorted them back home. Lingering ever so faintly in the air was the undertone of the tension that had yet to be resolved after their last confrontation, thick in the air to the point where neither of them dared to speak to one another about it. 

She could see Marzia fidgeting out of the corner of her eye, unsure of what to do in the heavy atmosphere, but she didn’t dare to break the silence now when Anneliese was much more alert to any hidden conversation that she could whisper behind her back. 

Marzia was always the one to try and fix what she could see, but the amount of self-restraint she was using at the moment was rather remarkable to Chiara as well. 

And just as she wondered if Marzia would be able to keep it up, she heard a sharp gasp from her side. 

Chiara turned to face her and quickly noticed that Anneliese had followed suit, concern evident on her face as she glanced around the street. 

“What is it?” she asked briskly, one hand coming to rest on the hilt of her sword. “Did something happen?” 

Chiara felt the first tinge of concern when Marzia only kept staring, mouth opening and closing once before she finally shook her head. 

“No,” she murmured, although her eyes never left the target unseen to anyone aside from her. "It's nothing."

Chiara wasn’t sure if she had ever heard Marzia so quiet before and that was enough for her to start looking around as well. She couldn’t tell what exactly had caught Marzia’s attention at first though, glancing over the numerous men and women all passing by them without a second glance until she caught a flash of bright blonde hair on the other side of the street. 

The despair on Marzia’s face was certainly justified when Chiara saw Monika making her way through the crowd as well, keeping her head low as she slipped between those in her way until she disappeared down one of the many alleyways that lined the city.

She turned back to face Marzia, ready to face Anneliese on her behalf should she make the connection as well only to see Anneliese watching Monika with a pensive gaze alongside her.

That was what caused her to freeze in the end. It was exactly what Anneliese had wanted, after all, for them to be separated for the sake of their families. 

So why did she look so regretful now? 

Anneliese finally cleared her throat, lifting her hand off of her sword to rest at her side once more as she turned to face them. 

“I’m afraid I might have to take a break soon if nothing is the matter,” she said simply. “Movement is still rather difficult for me and I’d like to avoid the chances of gaining any further injuries.” 

She looked down at both of them, but Chiara noticed the way her eyes seemed to hold some kind of pointed look directed at Marzia in particular. 

“You two can look around, if you like.” Anneliese’s gaze drifted back over to the other side of the street. “I’ll be preoccupied for a moment, but I trust that you’ll both be responsible enough to handle yourselves.” 

Chiara could hardly believe it, and judging from the way Marzia’s jaw dropped, it seemed as if she couldn’t either. 

Marzia’s head whipped back over to Monika before she looked back at Anneliese, the unspoken question in the air practically radiating from every inch of her as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. 

Anneliese offered no answer though, only stepping back to rest against the wall before she clearly turned her head away to face the opposite side of the street. 

As soon as that invitation was given, one that Chiara was sure couldn’t be made any clearer, Marzia was gone in a flash, tearing down the street after Monika without a second wasted as she vanished into the crowd. 

Chiara didn’t move to follow suit and leave though, studying Anneliese closely before she made her way over to the wall to stand next to her. 

“You know she’s there.” 

Anneliese said nothing and for a moment, Chiara was ready to let her temper lose when she finally gave a brief nod. 

“I do,” she answered, turning to study Chiara. “And I suppose you want to know why I let Marzia go.” 

“You-” Chiara sputtered before she finally stalked forward in order to keep her volume low in a poisonous hiss. “You’re the one who started this whole fucking mess in the first place! What the hell are you doing now?” 

“You said it yourself.” Anneliese’s voice held no signs of the professional edge to her words that she used so often, only a clear statement of the obvious with no signs that she was protecting her ego in the meantime. “I made a mistake and the consequences fell on you two.” 

Chiara didn’t even know where to start with that, but luckily, she was spared from answering when Anneliese crossed her arms and quietly continued.

“My job is to keep you both safe,” she said plainly, as if she was stating an unarguable truth, “and I failed because I started to put your family’s pride above you.” 

Chiara only stared at her for a moment before she finally spoke again.

“You think that’s enough to make up for what you did?” she snapped.

Anneliese’s face hardened.

“No.”

Even Chiara was taken aback by the cold tone she had taken on, even if that clear disapproval wasn’t being aimed at her.

“I’m certain that I can’t.” Anneliese shifted to lean against the wall, although that did little to soften the firm set to her voice. “I didn’t think my actions would set your futures so clearly though.” 

For a moment, the only sound between them was the passing conversation of the citizens around them, blurred into the background into a mess of idle chatter and hazy voices, until finally, Anneliese let out a quiet sigh.

“I’ve become a rather terrible role model, haven’t I?” 

To hear Anneliese bring her own ego down was rare enough and at first, all Chiara could do was study her with the same critical gaze she had recieved so many times before. She finally allowed herself to relax though, tension easing from her shoulders as she leaned against the wall next to Anneliese.

“You weren’t a good one to start with.” 

Anneliese only shook her head at that, but Chiara caught the amused, almost relieved, look in her eyes. 

The vial remained heavy from where it was hidden in her dress and Chiara wondered for a moment if it was really worth it, to go through all of the trouble to see eye-to-eye with Anneliese once more. 

Although, she supposed, there were worse ways to go. It wasn’t as if it would matter in the end either way. 

~~

As soon as Marzia rejoined them, the heavy tension that once weighed down on all of their backs finally seemed to melt away. 

Seeing Marzia chatting happily with Anneliese, who merely nodded along and occasionally pulled her back when she got a little too eager, was a familiar sight that Chiara hadn’t seen in a while. 

Perhaps Marzia’s eyes were a little more red than usual and maybe her voice occasionally cracked, but it was still something that resembled their previous journeys home. 

However, seeing Elizabeta waiting outside the door quickly threw that usual moment back into uncertainty. 

In a flash, Anneliese’s hand was already ready by the hilt of her sword as she stepped forward to meet her. 

“Did something happen?” she asked sharply. 

Chiara wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Elizabeta look so unsure in her life, caution ridden in every part of her body. 

“No, no, there’s no need for that Anna,” she mumbled, the supposed attempt at reassurance failing spectacularly when she reached to clasp a firm hand on both Chiara and Marzia’s shoulders. “Let’s just get you two inside.” 

Chiara stumbled over herself with the brisk pace Elizabeta set back, nearly hitting the ground before she managed to catch herself. 

“Eliza?” Marzia’s voice was already starting to grow shrill with panic. “What’s wrong?” 

Elizabeta only shot them both a quick smile, one that was ridden with tension and offered little comfort to Chiara. 

“Just get inside,” she said quietly. “Quickly now.”

“Ah, I’m glad I caught you all.” 

Chiara froze as soon as she heard that familiar voice. Elizabeta’s grip tightened hard enough to sting, but Chiara could hardly bring herself to care when she saw Sanem making her way down the street with a bright smile. 

“I didn’t know you would be out today.” She smiled at Chiara with a disgusting amount of feigned politeness. “Looks like I visited a little too early.” 

Sanem let out a casual laugh, pacing forward to meet them as if she had owned the very house they lived in herself. “I’m glad I came back around then.” 

“I’m afraid we’re quite busy at the moment,” Elizabeta said briskly. “Lady Vargas won’t be able to see you today.” 

Chiara was grateful for that steady presence on her shoulder when Sanem waved her off.

“Oh no, I’m not here for business.” She glanced back at Chiara and for a moment, her the air around them seemed to become that much colder when she caught a glimpse of steel cold pride before it could be covered up. “I just wanted to catch up with Chiara, if you don’t mind.” 

Chiara froze. 

She had always seen Sanem in the company of someone else and the thought of having to face her alone, with no public image to keep up, was nearly enough to break her.

“It won’t take long,” Sanem continued, clasping her hands behind her back as she shot a smile to both Elizabeta and Anneliese. “I’ll just steal her for a moment.” 

She let out a heavy sigh before she turned to glance at Chiara once more. “I would have joined for the preparations myself if I’d known you were starting them today, but I’m sure Chiara can fill me in.” 

There it was again. 

The challenge to face her was thrown ever so clearly in her face, but this time, Sanem didn’t even bother to hold the pretense of being anything but the victor. 

Because really, she was. She was the one who could tear apart Chiara’s life with the same confident smile that she had held since the first day they had met.

And Chiara was sick of it. 

“Fine.” 

She didn’t have to turn her head to know there would be three shocked faces awaiting her.

The weight of the vial grew heavier, but with it, Chiara had never felt more free in her life.

The dead had nothing to lose, after all.

Elizabeta’s hand had yet to fall from her shoulder though, hesitance ridden on every part of her face. “Chiara-” 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Chiara kept her voice clipped, as neutral as could be compared to her usual volatile leap between instinctive defense and sheer panic. 

She knew what would lie ahead of her in the morning and that certainty in knowing her future, no longer tossed and turned about by false hopes and broken promises, only served to spark that small part of her that had reared its head in offense for so long at being slighted.

Chiara expected to have to argue her way into this conversation as well, but any new line of defense was quickly interrupted when Anneliese nodded her head and dislodged Elizabeta’s grip with a brief brush of her arm. 

“Very well.” Anneliese looked over Sanem once with a familiar stern gaze. “We’ll leave you be.” 

She made her way back into the house as soon as she spoke, not even waiting for Sanem’s response as she grabbed Marzia’s arm to pull her along. Elizabeta glanced between them for a moment, stepping back once before she paused and finally turned to follow after Anneliese. 

As soon as the door shut, Sanem’s smile seemed to grow, the confident pride returning tenfold as she stepped forward to meet her. Chiara didn’t falter though when she stepped up to her, even if she had to bury the urge to cower deep down under in order for her to keep that cold stare up. 

“You’ve certainly had a change of heart, haven’t you?” Sanem mused, leaning forward to grin at Chiara. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to see things my way.” 

It was almost laughable how far Sanem was from the truth, but Chiara didn’t expect her to be able to see that far past her ego to reach it anyways. She opened her mouth and nearly spilled that little thought out before she remembered that according to Sanem and just about the rest of Verona, she was technically right. 

And Chiara was going to have to act like she was. 

“Speak for yourself,” was what she settled on, making sure to keep the same amount of bite to her words that she had always used around her.

“What, I can’t be happy for us now?” Sanem grinned down at her. “I’m just glad you’ve finally settled down. It’s probably safer for all of us now, especially you.” 

God, Chiara couldn’t handle her victorious tone as if she had won some kind of prize. 

“What the hell do you want?” 

Sanem didn’t even seem bothered by her harsh tone, the same confident smile plastered onto her face without ever faltering. “I just wanted to talk to my wife.” 

“I’m not your wife,” Chiara snarled back, barely taking a second to let that statement sink in before she fired back her response. 

And for a moment, Chiara caught a glimpse of the same cold irritation she had seen the other day, the flash of jealousy raw and unfiltered as Sanem’s smile hardened.

“Not mine?” she hummed. “Is that really what you think?” 

Chiara opened her mouth to answer, but before she could even get a word out, she was yanked forward. There was no time for her to react when in a second, Sanem looped an arm around her waist and kissed her. 

It took a moment for her mind to catch up with the rest of her body, frozen in place until her consciousness decided to snap back into action. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there or when she could finally start to move again, but all she knew was that it was too much, too restricting, too _wrong_ for her. 

Chiara didn’t even think before she shoved Sanem back, gasping for air as soon as she was freed. She could still feel that touch on her, in the wrinkles on her dress and for a moment, she felt as terrified as she first did, powerless to do anything to stop her. 

“Not as settled as I thought then,” Sanem smiled at her, but her gaze remained as cold as ever. “I'll have to work on that.” 

And for a moment, Chiara truly believed that she had won, that her future was written out by Sanem’s hand. 

But she still had the vial and with it, she was free to do whatever she pleased.

It took a moment for that to sink in, to wash the cold rush of fear away as the meaning behind that message finally connected in her head. 

She could do whatever she wanted and she would win. 

Chiara didn’t even stop to think before she stalked forward to meet Sanem again, who only grinned down at her with the same amused smirk. 

That smirk quickly dropped when Chiara reached out and slapped her across the face. 

It felt foreign at first and for a moment, they could only stare at each other until the realization finally sank in for them both. 

Just like that, Chiara felt nothing but the sweet rush of victory for once and it was a feeling she greedily indulged in, a thrill unlike any other that she had experienced before. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snapped. “And stay the hell away from my house.” 

Without another word, she turned and headed straight for the door without a glance over her shoulder. She could feel Sanem’s shocked gaze on her back, but that was a target she would wear with pride as she made her way inside. 

When she turned back around, Chiara caught a glimpse of the face of the woman who had destroyed her life and this time, she did nothing but slam the door shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now we're getting into it!!! i might take a little break soon though just because i've been writing almost every day to keep up with this story and honestly, my head is like filled with nothing but shakespeare and it's a Lot, but i'll still be going for now!


	41. Farewell and Goodnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara's room hadn’t changed since she had left that day. The bed that Marzia and Elizabeta had settled down on for so many mornings remained as soft as ever, the vanity that Anneliese occasionally perched against resting untouched against the wall. 

Everything was where it should be, but something just felt out of place, some subtle detail that threw the balance of familiarity off. 

Now that she thought about it though, sitting on the bed with the vial in hand, perhaps she was the broken link.

Surrounded by everything that she had come to love, Chiara had never felt more distant from what she was supposed to hold dear to her heart.

In the haze of the summer air, she had become a stranger to her own life, relinquished to a clinical gaze fixed on the fond memories of the family she would leave behind. For what she was about to do, Chiara had assumed that she would feel something a little more dramatic; perhaps a heart-wrenching fear or all-encompassing doubt before she made her final decision. 

In the place of those emotions though, Chiara felt only a numb acceptance, a quiet void that let the past slip from her fingertips in order to reach out for the uncertain future ahead.

She didn’t know how to feel about that show of her character, if that lack of regret revealed some hidden selfishness that had poisoned her long before the nightshade could. 

However, Chiara's head whipped up when she heard the door creak open, promptly snapping her out of her thoughts as she shoved the vial under her sheets in a flash before her late visitor could see what was in her hands.

That jolt of tension soon eased itself back out though when Marzia slipped inside her room, quickly shutting the door behind her without making a sound.

"I told you to leave me alone," Chiara muttered, patting under her covers to retrieve the nightshade. 

Marzia's lips curled down into a frown, concern flashing through her eyes as she made her way over to sit next to her on the bed. "I just-"

She hesitated.

"I just wanted to see you before you left."

Chiara couldn't even think of a way to verbalize the responses floating around her head to that, barely able to untangle the mess of cold guilt and silent acceptance. She opened her mouth once before she shut it again, only nodding her head in response and praying that Marzia would understand.

And of course she did, shuffling closer to let their shoulders brush together. 

"Are you going to stay in Mantua with Isabella?" Marzia asked quietly. 

Chiara could see the attempt at changing the subject as clear as day, her try at guiding the conversation away from such sensitive topics, and for that, Chiara felt nothing but gratitude for her sister’s ability to pick up the unseen message she had tried to send.

"I don't know,” she muttered, curling her fingers around the vial ever so slightly. "She'll probably want to move."

That lackluster response didn’t seem to dissuade Marzia though as she gave a gentle smile, leaning closer in order to nudge Chiara’s arm with her own.

"That’s ok,” she said, nothing but warm support wrapping around her words. "You could go wherever you want anyways."

And maybe her optimistic approach wasn’t so bad after all when Chiara rolled her eyes and let her lips quirk up into an amused smile.

"You mean she'll drag me wherever she wants to go."

The muffled sound of Marzia’s hushed giggling and Chiara’s brief huff of laughter lifted the tension that had forced its way between them.

"I'm sure you'll find someplace you both like,” Marzia finally said, words airy as she caught her breath. 

But hidden in that amusement, Chiara caught a glimpse of something else lingering just behind that ceaseless care. Even Marzia wasn’t without her own agenda, and after all she had done, it was about time that Chiara started to return some of the help that she had taken so endlessly from her. 

"What do you want?"

Marzia’s smile immediately dropped, alarm practically radiating from every inch of her as she glanced down at her lap. “Hmm?”

“I’m not stupid,” Chiara mumurred. “Just hurry up and tell me.”

Perhaps that was a little harsher than she intended, but it seemed to do the job as Marzia’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, her protest written clearly all over her face before she finally let out a sigh. Marzia’s strength worked wonders when it came to the aid of others, but now, Chiara finally saw the hesitance that worked its way through the cracks once her aid was forced to turn upon itself.

It took a moment, a few false starts that were quickly waved away before Marzia finally whispered out her question.

"Wherever you end up," she asked quietly, "could you still write to me?"

Chiara stared at her. 

There was no way a request like that deserved that much guilt.

"I know you can't come back, but I still want to talk to you." Marzia’s voice lowered enough to force Chiara to strain in order to hear her. "Even if I can't see you."

The weight of her actions finally started to set in with that simple choice to leave Verona, because leaving Verona wasn’t just leaving her marriage behind; it was leaving her sister, who had done nothing but support her without asking for a thing in return, behind as well. 

Acceptance was easy enough for her, but as Chiara looked over her sister, who struggled to take in what she had done in order to help her along the way, the split between them had become clearer than ever before.

She wondered when Marzia had grown up so quickly. 

"Yeah." Chiara glanced up to meet Marzia’s eyes. "I'll write back."

The lost hope on Marzia's face had yet to fade though as her voice dipped into a whisper. "Promise?"

It was such a small thing. Marzia should be asking for her to stay, or to take her along, anything that could repay all that Chiara had accepted from her. 

But deep down, Chiara knew that even if she offered such a payment, Marzia would never accept it. 

All she could do now was give what little Marzia had requested in return.

"I promise."

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t try her hand at offering some of the comfort that Marzia had given her so often though.

"Isabella's probably going to write to you more than I am though," she said quietly. "Nosy bastard."

Marzia only stared at her though, and Chiara felt the shame quickly rush to settle in, burning through her skin to run through her veins. She had been a fool to think she could even hope to offer a fraction of what Marzia had given to her.

But eventually, Marzia's eyes lit up with a flicker of gratitude as she let out a small smile. 

"Then I'll make sure to talk to you both." 

Chiara could only stare back at her, silence creeping in between them before she let herself smile back, even if it was barely a brief quirk of her lips.

"Do whatever you want.” 

Finally, the tension that had been pulled taut slackened its grip between them, the worst of their conversation finally behind them. 

Chiara caught the way Marzia slumped ever so slightly, relaxing her grip on the sheets as she glanced up. "When are you…?"

She didn’t have to even hear the rest of that question to know her answer, the response naturally jumping to the tip of her tongue. "Doesn't matter because you're not staying to watch."

Almost immediately, Marzia’s head whipped up as she opened her mouth to protest.

"But-"

"No." Chiara’s voice hardened, firm with each word that left her. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you see this."

Marzia’s struggle to keep her volume down showed ever so clearly on her face, twisting with her attempt at controlling herself before she finally let that struggle wash away with one long exhale.

"I don't want you to be alone though."

Chiara knew her face softened as soon as Marzia’s fell, but even that wasn’t enough to change her mind. 

"Worry about yourself,” she said, an instruction she intended on making sure Marzia followed. "You're not going to watch me turn into a damn corpse."

Marzia didn’t say a word as she stared back, bringing one hand up to wipe at her eyes and leaving Chiara at a loss on what to say next. 

Everything from harsh insults to bittersweet goodbyes flickered through her head, all filled with emotions that she knew she would never be able to bring herself to speak. In the end, the only thing she let out was a quiet sigh, letting her shoulders slump as she kept her gaze fixed on the ground.

"Go back to your room, Marzia."

Marzia paused for a moment, only staring back at Chiara with an expression she couldn’t quite identify before she leaned forward to hold her, arms tightening around her back as she dropped her head. 

“Okay.” Her words muffled themselves into the fabric of Chiara’s nightgown, but all of the sentiment that she poured into her voice didn’t go unheard. "Okay."

Marzia said nothing else, only pressing herself closer until Chiara heard a faint sentence, one nearly soft enough to be carried away by the breeze.

"I'll miss you."

Chiara remained frozen in place for a moment, staring blankly at Marzia before she slowly brought her arms up to wrap them around Marzia’s shoulders, the motion stopping short every few seconds as she pulled her close.

"I'll miss you too." 

Words of affection remained a stubborn barrier that Chiara couldn’t force herself to cross, but to leave Marzia’s comfort in the air was something that Chiara couldn’t leave unfinished. 

So she did nothing as Marzia swayed from side to side, letting her rock the two of them as Chiara’s grip tightened with every passing second. She wanted to tell her all of the thoughts running through her head, every apology and farewell that she had read about so many times before. But in the end, nothing came out though and before she knew it, Marzia had let her arms fall in order to stand up. 

She saw no sign of expectation for such a confession, only a small smile filled with hope as Marzia wiped at her eyes with the palm of her hand. There was no blame placed upon her shoulders, only what she was sure Marzia had decided to carry herself.

"Sleep well, Chiara."

And with that, Marzia was gone, closing the door behind her and leaving Chiara with no choice but to keep moving forward.

She was tempted for a moment to go after her, just to talk for a little longer, but she knew that was a line she couldn’t cross. Marzia had finally allowed herself to accept what had happened and to insist on pushing her denial to its limits now for a few moments of conversation would be nothing short of cruel.

Chiara was alone and it was about time she started to act like it.

To turn back would be to let all of Marzia’s mourning and Isabella’s sacrifices go to waste, and guilty as she was, she wouldn’t allow those gifts to be tossed aside so carelessly.

She let her mind wander, vaguely brushing upon the mess of emotion in her head before it settled on what was in her hands.

The vial was cool to the touch, glass chilly in her palm in a soothing contrast to the warm summer night. It was hard to believe that the cause of her death was contained so neatly in that small bottle, innocent to the uneducated eye.

All she had to do was take it and just like that, she would seal her future. One small action to change her life. 

Chiara felt a chill run down her spine as she uncapped the vial, letting the liquid roll around in the glass for a moment. A part of her still screamed her doubts, warned her that this would only lead to her grave, but Chiara couldn’t give in to that rationality now. 

She had already gone so far that to back out now would be nothing short of selfish. 

Chiara kept that thought a steady beat through her head, a rhythm she could lose herself in as she brought the vial up and chugged down the nightshade. 

The bitter taste turned sour on her tongue, but she forced herself to keep her mind fixated on anything else, swallowing it down as quickly as possible until she was left with an empty glass in her hand. 

And that was all. 

There was no sudden collapse, no flash of light before her eyes. Chiara felt the same as she had before, only waiting for the effects to take place. All she was left with was an empty vial and poison that was now coursing through her.

As if nothing had changed. 

Chiara stared at the vial for a moment, turning it over in her hands until it finally set in that the contents made to kill were currently travelling down her throat.

It was an odd revelation to come to, to say the least.

She couldn’t tell if the pounding of her heart or the sudden rush of dizziness were the signs of the poison at work or just the results of a diagnosis too hasty in its jump to paranoia. Everything became that much more suspicious, each short breath and swirl of nausea symptoms of a condition that she had no idea on how to treat. 

Letting go of the idea of being treated at all and to accept the fact that she couldn’t change what she had started now was one of the hardest leaps of faith that Chiara had to take, but eventually, she finally felt the haze of fatigue settle over her, the same kind of tiredness she had felt so many times before. For something so radically different, all of these sensations felt so familiar that Chiara couldn’t bring herself to let the alarm course through her body anymore. 

She fell back onto the bed, letting her head hit the pillow. Chiara let her eyes wander to the open balcony, thoughts slowly turning sluggish and passing by ever so slowly one by one as she let the vial fall to the sheets. 

There was no hasty regret, no frantic turning point: only a heavy weight keeping her pinned to the mattress and the desperate need to go to sleep. 

She just wanted to go to sleep.

Her consciousness became a burden to carry, harder to keep working by the second until Chiara finally blinked slowly and her eyes fall shut.

Perhaps she should have been more worried about what she was getting herself into, but Chiara couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. 

Isabella would be there when she woke up and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright i made the mistake of reading this fic from the beginning and got pretty fuckin close to deleting it on the spot, so the game plan now is to just write as much as possible and ignore everything i've written before this point. this is gonna be finished if i hate it or not i swear-


	42. Death in the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Marzia watched as the first rays of the sun slowly crept over the garden wall, soft pink and orange hues dusting over the deep black sky to bring about the morning. 

She could barely bring herself to lift her head off of her pillow in her exhaustion, but she couldn’t quite manage to find that elusive path to sleep either. It was hard to relax when all of her thoughts trailed back to Chiara’s room, to what waited behind the closed door. 

Life and death blurred together in the vial that Chiara had managed to sneak in and Marzia had no idea what the morning would bring. A corpse, a body still asleep, a sister waiting on her bed just like she was. 

What awaited her would remain a paradox with no way of finding out which of those possibilities had come to light until Marzia opened that door for herself. 

She let her thoughts wander away from such dire topics though, choosing to latch onto the quiet hush of passing conversation and quick footsteps muffled by the silence of the morning instead.

The preparations for Chiara’s wedding had sent the whole estate into a frenzy, rushing to smooth out the details in time for the grand event. Marzia had no doubt that Anneliese and Elizabeta would already be up to join the staff, part of the creeping stream that worked into the night and early in the morning to keep up with the tight schedule. 

And none of them knew that Chiara would never be present for her own wedding. 

She knew why Chiara had been so quick to send her away, hurried to keep her from witnessing what would be her death, but to keep herself in the dark for such a hard decision only left a gnawing pit of unease in her stomach. 

It went against what Chiara had tried to do, but Marzia didn’t think she could keep herself away from facing the aftermath, just for some final bit of closure before Chiara had to leave.

Hadn’t she deserved that much? 

She mused on that question as she pushed herself off of her bed, squinting when the room spun around her eyes before she could get past the sudden rush of dizziness. The covers fell to her waist as she sat up, carefully sliding across the bed in order to stand. 

Perhaps it would be a little suspicious for her to be up so early, but she doubted that anyone would question her for her motives. 

Marzia opened the door to her room, glancing down the hall before she slipped outside. 

She started her course for Chiara’s room at first, destination set in her mind before she paused. 

She knew the possibilities ahead, but nobody else did. It would be all too easy to peek inside Chiara’s room and sneak back to her own before the dawn broke, but to do that would be to leave what was inside for the next person to see. 

She shifted back and forth for a moment, rocking on the balls of her feet before she turned to make her way down the opposite hall. 

As Marzia had expected, she passed by a few servants on the way who certainly looked surprised to see her, but didn’t say a word to stop her as she walked down the halls. But none of them were the people she was looking for and she pressed forward until she saw Anneliese and Elizabeta walking side by side to the kitchens. 

As soon as their figures became clear, Marzia sped up in order to meet up with them, her own footsteps tapping against the floor loud enough to force their whispered conversation to a halt as they straightened up and glanced over their shoulders. 

“Marzia?” Elizabeta’s brow furrowed as she hurried over to meet her, brushing her hands off on her apron with a few brief pats. “What are you doing up so early?” 

“I wanted to help,” she mumbled, gaze drifting over to Anneliese, who trailed after Elizabeta with an equal amount of confusion. “With the wedding.” 

Anneliese’s face softened, letting out a quiet sigh as she relaxed. 

“I understand why you want to join us, but there’s really no need to force yourself to wake up with us,” she said quietly, clasping her hands behind her back. 

Marzia nodded along.

“I know,” she replied easily. “I just wanted to.” 

She caught the brief glance that Elizabeta and Anneliese shared, barely a second of eye contact before Elizabeta cleared her throat and smiled at her.

“You can come with us then.” Her tone was gentle, words designed to soothe. “Just for today. You need to make sure you get enough sleep though, Marzia.” 

Marzia let some of the tension fall from her shoulders as she smiled back, even if that knot of discomfort still lingered behind. “I will.” 

As she looked between the two who had looked after her and her sister for so long, Marzia felt her throat tighten up when she realized that they too had no idea of what had happened behind their backs. 

She had to fight to keep her smile on her face, straining to keep her tone light as she forced out her next question.

“Can Chiara come too?” 

It felt surreal to see Anneliese shake her head with a hint of humor, unaware of the weight behind that name now.

“I don’t know about that,” she mused. “She values her sleep more than anybody else here.” 

Elizabeta let out a quiet laugh, one too light for the woman in question as she reached over to squeeze Marzia’s shoulder.

“She’s right.” Elizabeta briefly tilted her head to look down the hall, down where Chiara’s room waited. “I guess we could ask, but I doubt she’ll want to join now.” 

Marzia wondered if Chiara would even be able to answer, but she kept that thought to herself as she let her smile widen. “Can we just ask then?” 

“I don’t see why not.” Elizabeta turned her gaze to Anneliese with a soft huff. “What do you think, Anna?” 

Marzia felt Anneliese’s critical gaze study her for a moment, long enough for doubt to creep in before she gave a curt nod.

“I suppose we have time.” 

She wasn’t sure if she should feel relief or not as Elizabeta turned back to face her, smile widening for a moment before she turned her attention back to Anneliese as they made their way down the hall and resumed their quiet conversation, leaving an ample amount of space between them for her to follow along. 

Of course, Marzia followed, but even with both of them by her sides, she had never felt lonelier in her life. 

The walls and the floors blended together, melting in her thoughts as the exchange between Elizabeta and Anneliese faded away above her. Nothing seemed quite right, still stuck in a haze as if the house and all of the people in it were nothing more than a dream that would be snapped away in the morning. 

If it was a dream, then it certainly stretched the boundaries of reality as Elizabeta rapped on Chiara’s door, gently pulling Marzia out of her head and into the hall once more. 

She only watched as Elizabeta knocked once more, sharing an amused glance with Anneliese before she reached down for the handle. 

Marzia’s chest tightened when she pushed down and opened the door. 

But there was no terror to behold when she peered into her room.

Everything was as it should be. Chiara rested in her bed, hair a tangled mess on her head as she slept peacefully. 

But that wasn’t an answer. The possibilities still remained suspended in the air and the dread finally started to sink in as Marzia followed after Elizabeta to make her way inside, Anneliese closing the door behind them. 

It was all too familiar, the way Anneliese leaned against the wall as Elizabeta picked her skirt up to settle herself on the side of the bed. 

Marzia couldn’t keep her eyes off of Chiara as Elizabeta leaned down to carefully nudge her shoulder, waiting to see what laid ahead of her now. 

“Chiara?” Elizabeta’s call held a singsong tone to it, one that clearly expected no answer. “Chiara? Do you want to wake up now?” 

For a moment, Marzia could pretend that Chiara really was just asleep, but the second she saw the way her body shook listlessly with Elizabeta’s push, no resistance held in any part of her whatsoever, she knew what ending she had come across. 

It was so easy to forget that Chiara wasn’t dead when she saw the imitation of a corpse in her bed. Everything seemed to remain in flux, enough of a daze to send a chill down her spine, one that only grew as Elizabeta let out a quiet sigh. 

“I don’t think she’ll be joining us today,” she hummed, eyeing Anneliese with amusement. 

Anneliese nodded along in agreement, a motion that Marzia barely caught out of the corner of her eye. “I didn’t expect her to.” 

Marzia wanted to scream, to point out the obvious that laid right in front of their eyes, but she kept her mouth shut. There was nothing she could do now but wait. 

And wait she did as Elizabeta gently shook her once more, pushing at her arm with a smile. 

That smile slowly died down though when Chiara followed that motion, falling over to rest on her back as her head lolled to the side. She could see the moment the concern started to perk up in Elizabeta’s eyes, reaching over with a frown to tap at her cheeks.

“Chiara?” Her words came out just a little more rushed, confusion darting through that simple call as she turned Chiara’s head to face her. “Are you alright?” 

Marzia jolted when Anneliese swept past her, a blur of dark red that quickly joined Elizabeta by the bed. 

“What is it?”

Elizabeta only stared back at Anneliese with no answer to give, one that Marzia couldn’t help her to find. 

“She’s not moving.” Elizabeta looked back down at Chiara with the first signs of worry creeping through her expression. “At all.” 

It hurt, it hurt to watch them get so close to the illusion that Chiara had set up, even if Marzia had nearly fallen for it herself. But she still crept closer, standing behind them as Anneliese leaned over to pat at Chiara’s face herself. 

“Chiara?” Anneliese’s call was much more abrupt than Elizabeta’s quiet hum, a sharp bite within her words. “You need to wake up now.” 

Marzia’s head whipped to the side when she heard Elizabeta’s sudden gasp, eyes wide as she stared at the covers just next to Chiara. 

Her hand quickly darted out to grab at something hidden just by Chiara’s arm, staring blankly at the object in her grasp for a second before she all but shoved Anneliese out of the way to lean over Chiara. 

“Chiara, Chiara, get up.” Marzia could hardly make out her frantic mumbling, a flurry of words as she ran her fingers through Chiara’s hair. “Chiara, please, please, get up-”

Anneliese was back down by her side in a flash though, leaning over them both without missing a beat. “Elizabeta?” 

Elizabeta barely took a second to look up at her, reaching down to snatch what was hidden under the covers in order to pass it off to Anneliese. 

Even from where she was, Marzia could see the empty vial clearer than ever. 

And she knew Anneliese had finally made the connection too, that the false truth was finally starting to sink in as she rushed to join Elizabeta on the bed. 

“Chiara, what did you take?” Her voice sharpened, rising with every word as she grabbed Chiara’s shoulders. “ _What did you take?"_

Anneliese lifted Chiara up and silence briefly rushed in when her head lolled back, limp in Anneliese's grasp. 

Nobody dared to say a word in that moment, but as soon as Anneliese started to move, the room burst into a flurry that Marzia could barely keep up with. 

“Oh no, oh no no, Chiara, Chiara-” 

“I don’t think she’s breathing-” 

“Chiara, what did you do, what-” 

“When did she even-” 

“Anna, please, what did she-” 

“ _I don’t know!_ ” 

Marzia’s head pounded, lost in the flurry of raised voices and frantic yelling while Chiara remained limp in Anneliese’s grasp, motionless in the chaos around her. It was all too fast, all too much. 

She wanted nothing more than to reveal what had really happened, to offer some solace to those who didn’t deserve what had happened, but there was nothing she could say. Her breathing quickened, suffocating in the guilt that wrapped around her as thick as smoke. 

To lend her hand to her family would be to drop her sister with the other, and all she could do now was dig her heels in, pull and pray she could keep the fraying balance long enough before she fell. 

She vaguely heard the sound of the servants stopping by the door, hushed conversation that only fed the mess of sound and movement around them. Marzia didn’t know how long they tried to wake her up, how much time they had spent over her body before the door opened once more. 

“What’s going on?” 

Marzia tensed up as soon as she heard her mother’s mumbled question, one still heavy with sleep as she made her way inside. 

A similar state of panic seemed to set in for Anneliese and Elizabeta as well as their flurry of an answer jumbled together. 

“Chiara, she-” Elizabeta glanced over to Anneliese desperately, reaching down to keep an iron grip on Chiara’s arm. 

“She took, we don’t know, but she-” Anneliese’s mess of an explanation didn’t serve her any better her words dissolved into a frustrated exhale, one already shaky with alarm.

Octavia looked between them, no sign of comprehension being made before she turned to meet Marzia’s blank stare. 

“Marzia,” she murmured, “what happened?” 

Marzia couldn’t give her an answer either, no matter how hard she tried. The true answer was so close to slipping out, so close to losing it all for the sake of their comfort. But no matter what she thought, this was something she couldn’t interfere with, so she only stared back and hoped that her mother would reach that conclusion on her own. 

It took a moment, but eventually, Octavia’s eyes widened as she turned to face Chiara once more, the sleepy haze visibly snapping away in a brief second. 

“Chiara?” Even to Marzia, her voice sounded distant, as if she wasn’t quite present just yet. “Chiara?” 

When she took a step forward, Anneliese glanced up, tugging Elizabeta back with her as they both made room for her mother. 

And now that they were no longer crowded around Chiara, Marzia could see what exactly had become of her sister. 

It felt wrong in every sense of the word to see her so still, not a sound coming from her as if she had been made into nothing more than a ragdoll. She couldn’t see her chest rise and fall with her breathing, no sign of disturbance in her expression to wake her from her deadly sleep. 

But Chiara wasn’t dead. 

She silently chanted that small mantra to herself as Octavia dropped down on the bed, leaning over in order to reach for Chiara. Her mother looked over to the vial in Anneliese’s hand once, her expression never changing as she quietly pulled Chiara up. 

She may have slumped completely into Octavia’s arms, lifeless to the naked eye, but she wasn’t dead. 

“Chiara.” Octavia's voice held none of the strength she was renowned for as she brushed back the mess of dark brown hair that fell onto Chiara’s face with a gentle hand. 

And Marzia knew the second her mother saw Chiara’s face, the calm she had found in her supposed death, the gravity of the situation had finally set in. 

The room fell silent, all of Anneliese’s rapid questions and Elizabeta’s hasty confusion swallowed up in the hush. 

Octavia said nothing, only smoothing out the rest of Chiara’s hair before she carefully pulled her forward with a hand pressed to the back of her head in order to hold her close. It was an action that Chiara would have fought against if she were awake and it was certainly one that Octavia wouldn’t have dared to take in the bitter atmosphere between them. 

Now, she rocked them both back and forth, a small movement that perked itself up from the memories of Marzia’s youth, when they were still children eager for the comfort of their mother. It was a familiar sight, albeit one that turned into a bitter echo of sweeter times compared to what Marzia could remember. 

But when Octavia’s shoulders finally started to shake, Marzia found that she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her mother cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i wasn't kidding when i said i'm gonna crank this out bc at this point, i refuse to look back at what i wrote leading up to this


	43. O Lamentable Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

The funeral was a quiet affair. 

Nobody outside of the family had been invited to attend, the wide guest list made for the wedding relegated to not much more than a private gathering. It certainly made for a quiet morning by the tomb where Chiara was to be laid. 

But the day before that had been much more hectic.

All of the preparations meant for the wedding had been turned onto their head, birthing a chaotic scramble that reared up to tear down what had been raised in celebration for mourning instead. 

Within that rush, Marzia could remember how Marianne had darted in and out of the estate as well, offering whispered assurances that her letter to Isabella was sent before she was on her way again.

Even then, Marzia couldn't recall much else of that day, nor the funeral the next morning. Everything seemed to pass by under a haze, too vague for her to make out no matter how hard she tried. 

She didn't know who she had talked to, or if she had talked at all in those lonesome hours.

All she could remember, a distinct visual she was sure wouldn't dull with age, was the sight of Chiara's body being carried into the tomb of their family. 

It had amazed her, how lifeless her sister could look. Her presence seemed to seep out the warmth out of the sunlight, leaving behind a cold sense of emptiness that Marzia wasn't sure she had felt before. 

There was nothing for her to truly mourn anymore, but she still felt a sharp sting in her chest as she watched her family grieve. 

No tears nor words of sympathy were passed around as Chiara’s body passed them by, only a silence that she assumed was meant to convey some sort of respect. But what had happened at Chiara's tomb was only a picture, a delicate image of restraint waiting to be unleashed in the privacy of their rooms. 

And now, now that Chiara was sealed away underneath the earth, Marzia saw that crack starting to grow as she wandered down the hall.

Anneliese's door remained firmly shut, not a soul passing through her room since they had returned. Now that she thought about it, Marzia had yet to see Anneliese herself at all. 

She paused in front of the door, raising her hand up with every intention of offering some comfort. 

However, Marzia soon realized that to offer comfort would be to risk her tongue slipping loose, to reveal too much with the risk of reaching out.

She chose not to knock on the door. 

The quick tapping of footsteps coming down the hall forced her head up just in time to see Elizabeta rushing down. 

She followed Elizabeta's hurried path with her eyes, a brisk line that never once stopped to greet her. 

In fact, Elizabeta hadn't even turned her head, or even glanced in her direction. Marzia wasn't sure if she had seen her at all. 

She couldn’t muse on that concern for long though since in the span of a few seconds, Elizabeta was gone, leaving just as quickly as she had entered without a single sign of acknowledgement.

To see her darting through the estate wasn’t an uncommon sight, but the new emergence of her tunnel vision certainly was. Marzia couldn’t blame her though. If she found comfort in her work, then that was already more than what Marzia could give her. 

After Elizabeta vanished, Marzia remained standing in front of Anneliese’s door for a brief second longer before she slowly made her way deeper into the house. 

She knew what she would see, but the constant thrum to help, to soothe kept pulsing in her chest. It wouldn’t hurt to just take a look. 

There were no servants down the halls, an empty silence accompanying her short walk where her mother’s bedroom waited. 

Marzia had snuck by every so often, passing by the open door to see what had become of her mother. Each visit only revealed the same sight though, and this one was no exception.

She could already see Octavia slumped over in her chair, nursing a glass of wine in hand as she kept her eyes fixed on the wall where the portrait of their family had hung ever since Marzia was a child. 

If she waited, she knew she would see Elizabeta dart in, hear the mumbled request as Octavia held her glass up for another drink. 

And it hurt. 

For once, Marzia could truly fix all of their pain, could coax Anneliese out, slow Elizabeta’s desperate fixation, pull the glass from her mother’s hand. She had the means ready in her head, just three simple words to start the process of healing the ragged wounds that had torn them apart. 

_Chiara’s not dead._

Marzia didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. The thought of offering her comfort only to reveal just a little too much was enough to keep her mouth shut. 

She still had to fight back the urge to try anyways. The risk was too large for her to slip up and she refused to lose all of the shaky progress they had made so far. 

Marzia stood alone in the hall, enveloped by the grief that she could do nothing to quell. The very house itself seemed to enforce a thick silence, one that she dared not cut through to pull out those it engulfed.

She couldn’t stay here anymore. 

Marzia turned on her heels in order to make her way for the entrance. There would be no use in wandering around the halls, drifting aimlessly like the living dead only to torment herself with the what-ifs that swirled around her head. 

Leaving the estate alone was an odd sensation, one that never would have been permitted in any other time. But now, while everybody was still blinded in their mourning, by the death of a woman who would flee Verona that night, Marzia was free to do as she pleased. 

It wasn’t a freedom she wanted at all. 

The sun warmed her skin as soon as she slipped past the doors, a silent reminder that life still existed outside of the death that had enveloped her home. 

Marzia looked down the streets, swiveling her head back and forth for a moment before she picked a direction and started walking. 

She didn’t know where she was going, but she found herself gliding by the small crowds of citizens that had formed nonetheless. 

Idle chatter, hushed whispers, boisterous laughter, all of it so alive, wonderfully alive. 

And none of them knew the truth. 

All of a sudden, Marzia felt as if she had brought up some wall between her and the world, only able to watch from the other side as life continued on without her. She was right in the middle of the street, surrounded by people, but she couldn’t escape the inexplicable feeling that she was alone.

The conversation around her started to blend together into a mess of words and phrases she couldn’t understand. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to understand, if she would ever truly be able to join the rest of the world once more. Marzia found herself one step ahead of everybody else, looking back with no way to push them all forward to join her. 

She hated it. 

Marzia changed her course, away from the overwhelming sound of life on the main streets and down the narrow alleyways that winded through the city. 

And finally, she could let herself relax within the high walls and broken stones, stopping only to press her back against the wall and catch her breath. 

There was no need to keep up the illusion of ignorance to herself, even if she had to hide away in the depths of Verona to do so. 

Alone, she could finally let that guard slip ever so slightly. 

“Marzia?” 

She jolted up when she heard that familiar voice, deep with concern from the end of the alleyway. 

As soon as she turned her head, she found Monika’s confused stare aimed right back at her, and she felt nothing but dread cinch her throat. 

“Are you alright?” Monika stepped forward only to freeze in place. 

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to talk to Monika. 

Marzia stared back at her, unable to open her mouth and speak. 

That seemed to be enough to get Monika to move forward, although the hesitation shone ever so clearly on her face. 

“Do you need any help?” she asked. 

Gradually, Monika drew closer, stopping after every step to wait for Marzia’s reaction before she carried on. But Marzia had no reaction to give, couldn’t give one. 

It burned at her throat to keep those words hidden away from Monika and her wary concern, to keep that secret away from the one person who she had come to trust. 

“I heard about what happened.” Monika paused, visibly struggling for the right words before she let out a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t know either. 

_Chiara’s not dead._

_Chiara’s not dead._

“Chiara-” 

Marzia clamped her mouth shut as soon as that name slipped past her lips, eyes wide as fear burst through her veins with every beat of her heart. 

For a moment, she wondered if Monika knew, if she could hear the sentence that rang in her head, if she could see the guilt that stained her. 

But Monika’s face only softened with sympathy she didn’t deserve, for a reason she didn’t understand and one that Marzia couldn’t reveal. 

Monika stopped for a moment, glancing down before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

It was perfect, so warm and safe to have Monika holding her, a firm source of comfort that remained unyielding to the world.

Comfort for the wrong reason.

She didn’t know when she started to cry, when her eyes started to well up with tears before she latched her arms around Monika’s neck. The stress, the fear, the sense of being alone, alone, alone was too much for her to keep to herself. 

She ducked her head and pulled Monika as close as she could, until Monika’s arms tightened around her and molded them together. 

“ _Monika_.” 

That breathless gasp of her name pulled Monika closer, got her to wind her arms just a little tighter, but it still wasn’t enough. 

No matter how hard she tried, Marzia couldn’t bridge the gap she had made between them. 

So she said nothing else as she cried, letting Monika put together the pieces of a hollow illusion that Marzia couldn’t break for her. 

For all of the careful affection she had granted so easily to those she loved, she didn’t think it would hurt to be so close to someone in turn. 


	44. From Mantua's Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

It was still pleasantly warm. 

If she kept her eyes closed, she could feel the heat of the sunlight falling onto her back, settling over the blankets through the window. And if she truly shut out the world and focused solely on that source of warmth against her back, then Isabella could almost pretend that Chiara was there, pressed up behind her. 

That small fantasy quickly faded away when she opened her eyes though, revealing only the messy nightstand in front of her. Even when she glanced over her shoulder, blinking the last of her fatigue away, Chiara remained absent.

The only thing to greet her was herself and the small home she had managed to find. 

Isabella let her gaze wander over to the various crumpled letters scattered over the surface of her nightstand, leather pouches firmly tied shut holding the small fortune that had been sent along with them. 

She had been ready to stray much further from Verona when she had first left the city, hoping to make up some plan for her future along the way. However, that brief interlude of uncertainty was quickly swept away with Andrea’s first letter, one hurriedly handed to her by an exhausted maid. 

Even now, Isabella had no idea how Andrea had managed to find her so quickly, but she was thankful nonetheless for the steady source of income sent her way. Finding a house in Mantua was easy enough, and while it was rather small, Isabella had assumed she wouldn’t quite need an estate the size of Andrea’s if she was going to live alone. 

What little she made off of her paintings was more than enough to fill in the gaps that Andrea’s gifts couldn’t provide and by some miracle, Isabella had managed to settle down in Mantua in what felt like almost no time at all. 

Her head fell back onto the pillow as she brought her hands up to rest on her stomach. 

If it had been under different circumstances, then maybe such a sentence wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

A small house with just enough room to work, a quiet town far more peaceful than the chaotic whirlwind of Verona, it really could have gotten a lot worse for her. 

But still, it got lonely. 

No matter how much she tried to keep her head away from what had already been done, Isabella still couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live in this serene area with Chiara with her.

She had done her best to wrap her head around some plan to either rejoin Chiara in Verona or sneak her out herself, to follow through with the promise of salvation that she had given to Chiara before she left. But for all of her attempts, Isabella couldn’t figure out a way to make those plans a reality.

Hope could whisper encouragements to her wandering daydreams, but it wouldn’t let her take it into her arms like a woman.

Isabella let out a quiet sigh, glancing around her room once more before she closed her eyes. 

It wasn’t as if she needed to work on her paintings right away. She could afford the luxury of sleep for just a little longer. 

However, she bolted upright when she heard the knocking at her door. 

Isabella fumbled to get herself out of bed, tangled up in the covers and barely managing to pull her legs free as she smoothed back whatever she could of what she knew would be the bird’s nest on her head. 

It wasn’t her most graceful appearance, but she’s certainly had worse entrances as she rushed to get the door, yanking it open to see yet another one of Andrea’s maids on the other side.

“Good morning, Miss Carriedo.” Isabella didn’t miss the way she pointedly kept her eyes away from her bedraggled appearance in order to give her a polite smile. “I apologize for arriving on such short notice.” 

“That’s ok! I don’t mind,” she chirped back, shooting back a broad grin that she hoped would be enough to make up for her rather pitiful state. “I’m guessing Andrea wrote back then.” 

Isabella’s grin dropped ever so slightly when she saw the brief moment of hesitation that darted across the maid’s face before she schooled her expression back into a neutral smile. 

“Yes, yes.” She carefully dug through her apron in order to pull out a pristine envelope. “She’s requested that you read through this carefully before you respond.” 

Isabella paused for a moment before she plucked the letter from her hands. “Don’t worry, I will.” 

She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was something else beyond what was being presented to her, a flicker of pity that swept across the maid’s face quick enough to be nothing more than the trick of the light. 

But to act on such baseless suspicions would bring no results now, and to take it out on the poor servant who had to travel all the way from Verona to see her would do no good either.

“Is there anything from Sister Marianne too?” Isabella asked, careful to keep her voice light as she spoke. 

A brief shake of her head was her answer. 

“I’m afraid not. All I have is Lady Carriedo’s message,” she replied. “She’s asked me to run a few errands here, so I will be staying at the inn further down the street. Please feel free to come ask for me when you are ready to send your response.” 

“Thank you!” Isabella paused to glance up at the sky. “If you’re going to hang around, then you might want to start moving before the heat kicks in.” 

The maid gave a small smile in response. “I’ll be sure to take your advice. Good day, Miss Carriedo.” 

As soon as Isabella dipped her head in acknowledgement, the woman made to turn around and leave before she paused. 

“If there’s anything I could do to help you,” she said quietly, “please do not hesitate to ask.” 

Before Isabella could even start to unravel that sentence, the woman had already started to make her way back down the street. She stared after her, completely thrown off kilter by the sudden show of sympathy before she managed to clear her head and step back inside. 

She could worry about that later. 

Isabella shut the door behind her as she walked back to her room, studying the envelope in her hands before she fell onto her chair. 

It took a moment to clear all of the loose papers and scattered brushes from her desk in order to form a space just large enough for her to rest her elbows against, but it didn’t take nearly as long as she had expected before she could lean forward and rip open the seal.

The hastily folded letter she pulled out certainly pulled far from Andrea’s usual style, but Isabella could see her familiar slanted scrawl across the page and that was enough for her.

She expected the usual format that Andrea had come to follow: well-wishes hidden under layers of insults and brief stories of what had become of her friends in her absence before it closed with the ever-present reminder to keep herself safe. 

But Isabella noticed how Chiara’s name started to pop up more often with each new letter. She wasn’t sure if she should take that as a sign of disapproval or acceptance from Andrea, but she was grateful nonetheless for what little news she could get about her. 

So to see no mention of either Julchen or Monika’s names, but only Chiara’s written out in the opening sentences forced Isabella to stop. 

That small whisper of caution grew into a screaming alarm as she read through Andrea’s message before it finally fell silent. 

Pity. 

Isabella stared at the letter, looking over the words that had yet to settle in. 

The maid had given her pity. 

As if she had deserved it. 

She couldn’t get the words on the paper to form the woman they had described, descriptions written in black ink falling short of the warm arms and sharp tongue that all remained so vividly alive in her mind. 

Although, she supposed that was no longer the case. 

Isabella set the letter down when the sentences started to blur together, nothing more than a meaningless paper now. 

Andrea wasn’t cruel. She would never try to call something like this a joke, but Isabella almost wished she would because the reality waiting on the other side of that spectrum was one she couldn’t wrap her head around. 

She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, if she was feeling at all. All she could focus on was the mess of denial and hard-to-swallow acceptance, the disconnection that she couldn’t bring herself to bridge just yet.

Isabella stood up and left the letter behind. 

She didn’t know what she was doing, but she knew she had to start moving, start doing _something._

The sound of her footsteps became a steady pulse, one she could match the beating of her heart to-

She didn’t know what she was doing, what she was feeling, how to feel. 

-the constant tapping against the floor, it would steady its tempo if she kept walking- 

She didn’t want to look at the letter anymore. 

\- the sound would be sharper if she had her boots, a click to keep her rhythm in time- 

The house was too empty to hold one person. 

\- but maybe that would be too sharp, sharp enough to break through the quiet- 

She wanted a little more time. She was sure she would have come up with something by then.

-it would help her keep her pace, it would help her keep herself steady though-

She wanted a little more time.

-and it stopped.

She wanted Chiara. 

Isabella found herself standing in the middle of her room, unsure of when exactly she had ended up there, but present nonetheless. 

She almost wished she could have slipped back into the endless train of thought though when she finally realized that all of those thoughtless plans and idle daydreams would never come to be. 

Chiara would never come to join her in Mantua. She would never see the results of the grandiose promises that Isabella had tried to give her, and Isabella had all but lied to her for that. 

She wondered if she could have changed anything. 

She wondered if just maybe, she was to blame. 

Isabella wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring blankly at her desk. She could feel the ache setting in her legs, protesting against her lack of movement to distribute her weight, but that issue didn’t quite focus itself in her mind. 

The thought of Chiara being anything other than the volatile woman she had said her farewells was hard to picture as Isabella grabbed the letter once more, but she supposed she had no choice but to paint that image now. 

For a brief moment, Isabella felt that same grip of doubt that had kept her frozen by the wall to the garden, the need to run from what she couldn’t face, to hide in Mantua from what she feared. 

But to do so now would be nothing but a disservice to Chiara’s name. 

Isabella studied the letter in her hands, gaze drifting aimlessly over Andrea’s letter one last time before she set it back down onto her desk and glanced up. 

The sun was still soft in the early hours of the morning, creeping past the dawn in a warm lull that had yet to morph into the blistering heat of the afternoon. 

Isabella tapped her fingers against the desk once, then twice, before she straightened herself up and made her way over to her closet. 

There would be more than enough time to start her journey back to Verona if she left now. 

Isabella grabbed the sword still sheathed in its holster and tossed it onto the bed, rummaging through her clothes for something more fit for travel. 

She would have to write an apology to Andrea as soon as she got back. Perhaps the risk was too high and the reward too low for returning under the threat of death to visit a dead woman’s tomb, but Isabella wouldn’t dare to keep herself hidden away now after all Chiara had gone through. 

Chiara deserved that much, at the very least.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to swerve around the original material y'all. at the end of act 5 i'll explain why i changed the ending, but for now, have fun with some more Guilt from everyone


	45. Miscommunication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Tybalt - Anneliese Edelstein (Fem! Austria)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)  
> Mercutio - Julchen Beilschmidt (Fem! Prussia)

Marzia knocked on the doors that led up to the church, glancing over her shoulder as soon as she raised her fist. 

Walking through the town by herself was certainly a sensation that she wasn’t quite accustomed to, but she found that it was one she had to accept nonetheless. It would certainly bear some harsh consequence from either her mother or Anneliese herself if they found out about her little visit, but Marzia doubted that they even knew that she had left at all today. 

She jolted when the doors creaked open, barely catching a glimpse of Marianne’s concerned face in her haste to jump back. But once she settled back down, she saw the moment Marianne's frantic haste ebbed away into confusion. 

“Where is Anneliese?” Marianne peered over her to search the square with a frown. “Did she leave already?” 

Marzia shook her head. 

“She didn’t come with me,” she reported quietly. 

Marianne’s brow furrowed at that, although for exactly what reason, Marzia wasn’t sure. 

“You mean you came here alone?” 

She nodded. 

Marianne stared back at her for a moment, disbelief clear on her face before she finally stepped back to usher Marzia inside. 

“It doesn’t matter now,” she rushed out, reaching out with one hand to pull Marzia through the door. “I would say it’s for the best, if we can have such a thing now.” 

As soon as Marzia stumbled over to Marianne’s side, the door quickly shut behind her once more with a resounding echo as Marianne looked her over. 

“I’m glad to see you got my letter on such short notice,” she sighed. “And that you could make it at all in these strange times.” 

“It wasn’t that hard.” Marzia made sure to wave those concerns aside, even if she still harbored a hint of the shock that had came with Marianne’s sudden request to come visit. “But what do you need me for?” 

Just like that, Marianne’s frown returned tenfold, worry seeping out of her posture as she brought her hands together. 

“I’m afraid things aren’t going quite as we had planned,” she said, “We will have to move very quickly now in order to salvage this.

Marzia only stared back at her, running the vague message over once in her head before she tilted her head. “Huh?” 

Marianne’s answer came just as quickly as her question, a clean envelope pulled from her robes in one smooth gesture.

“My letter didn’t reach Isabella.” 

That simple sentence almost seemed too short to be an adequate explanation, one that Marzia still struggled to comprehend. 

She had to run over the implications of that line to herself before it finally clicked and her eyes widened. 

“Then Chiara-” 

“-will wake up alone, yes.” 

And just like that, the perfect plan that they had labored over had fallen apart with a single blow. 

Marzia didn’t know which of the flood of questions to pick out in response to that, barely able to keep her focus at all long enough to even speak. 

“How is she going to get out?” Her own voice was starting to rise, but Marzia could hardly care less about that now. “What about, what are we-” 

“That is why I will need you later tonight,” Marianne interrupted, her words just a little sharper than normal. “If you can make it out, I will need you to come meet me at her tomb so we can see her out.” 

“But what do we do _after_ that?” Marzia barely managed to catch her volume before it rose into a yell. “Where is she going to go? We can’t bring her back here!” 

Marianne’s firm hand on her shoulder did little to help soothe the spike of concern that tumbled into sheer panic, desperate for answers she couldn’t find. 

“We can bring her back to stay with me,” Marianne said, “and I will write to Isabella again as soon as she wakes up.” 

But that was only the first step for a potential solution, one not nearly large enough to stitch together the problem that loomed over their heads.

Marzia’s heart pounded in her chest, beating faster and harder with each scattered thought until she was sure it would fall right out of her chest. “She didn’t get the first letter though! How is she going to get this one?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Marzia paused when she saw the hint of panic that darted across Marianne’s expression. 

“Marzia, I don’t have all of the answers.” Her words started to melt together in her haste. “I do not have the perfect solution because this wasn’t supposed to happen. Please, for now, let us just focus on one thing at a time.” 

Marzia nodded along, slowly bobbing her head up and down as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

One thing at a time. She could do that. 

“You want me to get Chiara tonight?” she asked quietly, forcing her voice to steady in an attempt to quell the rest of her tumultuous emotions. 

And that attempt at diffusing the situation seemed to allow Marianne to relax ever so slightly as well. 

“Yes. I will meet you there, but in case I do not make it, bring her straight back here,” she replied. “Make sure nobody sees either of you once you leave, do you understand?” 

When Marzia nodded once more, Marianne squeezed her shoulder before she let her hand drop. 

“I’m sorry to put all of this onto you,” she murmured. “You really are a strong girl for your age.” 

Marzia wasn’t sure where she had gotten that idea from when she was so close to falling apart at the seams right then and there, but she couldn’t focus on that now, not with so much in her hands now. 

One thing at a time. 

She let that phrase roll through her mind as Marianne reached out to embrace her, even with her own arms limp by her sides. 

One thing at a time.

~~

The night came faster than Marzia had expected, rushing to overtake the day and snatching away what precious few hours of daylight she had left to prepare. 

She didn’t know what exactly those preparations entailed, but she knew it wasn’t nearly enough to send her on her way. 

Marzia stood in front of her own door, hand resting on the handle. 

Doubt crept in with every extra second she took to step out into the hall, because really, who was she to think that she could save Chiara? Who was she to think that she could right everything that she had inadvertently put into motion? 

Marzia closed her eyes for a moment and let her head fall to rest on the wood. 

She could hear those hushed whispers, the poisonous fears that worked their way throughout her body clearer than ever without sight. But with them, she could hear the wind rustling through the leaves outside, the flutter of the petals in the garden life that carried on regardless of how she felt. 

One thing at a time. 

Marzia took in a deep breath and slowly let the air push out all of those needless distractions.

Chiara was waiting for her and she needed to go find her. 

With that, Marzia slowly opened her door and crept out into the hall, careful to pull it back shut as quietly as she could. 

Seeing the house at night was a sight that sent chills down her spine. Without the warm light of the torches, the shadows seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, draping safe passageways in uncertainty. The silence that blanketed the halls swallowed up all of the sound of quiet conversation that Marzia had come to expect, leaving behind a void that only served to amplify each step she took. 

She kept one hand along the wall if only for the sake of her own comfort, so she too wouldn’t drown in the dark. Every faint creak and distant echo made her freeze in place, but she forced herself to keep walking down towards the door.

The cool stone against her fingertips helped to keep her grounded, a steady feeling that helped guide her through the halls. 

But when she her guide suddenly gave out, Marzia stopped in her tracks and whipped her head to the side. 

She found herself unable to move when she saw Anneliese’s open door just by her side, revealing the empty bedroom inside. 

“Marzia? Is that you?” 

Marzia nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste to turn around and saw Anneliese on the other end of the hall looking back at her with bewilderment. 

She looked like a complete mess, long hair tangled together and clothes wrinkled, but Marzia still felt the same jolt of fear spark down her spine as if she were fully dressed and ready to strike her down. 

They simply stared at each other, two hazy figures in the dark. Marzia couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, she could barely manage to breathe through the rush of adrenaline that roared through her. 

One thing at a time. 

She pushed herself off of the wall and tore down the hall, nearly stumbling over her own legs and scarcely managing to keep up with her own frantic pace. 

“Marzia!” She heard the sound of light footsteps racing down the hall, each resounding echo booming in her ears. “Where are you going?” 

Marzia didn’t dare to stop. She didn’t think she could with all of the momentum that sent her flying towards the entrance. 

She nearly slammed right into the door, but she took barely a second to recover before she threw it open and sprinted down the street, veering dangerously with the sharp turn.

If Anneliese was still following her, Marzia had no idea. All she could take in now was her own gasping breaths and the ache of her legs, but she kept running regardless, even if she didn’t know where she was going anymore. 

She glanced over to take in the buildings she passed by and quickly re-oriented herself, spinning around in one desperate circle before she turned down another street. 

And slammed right into another person. 

She let out a yelp as the wind was knocked right out of her lungs, sending her sprawling backwards. 

“Sorry-” 

The instinctive apology died on her lips when she looked up and finally took in just who she had ran into. 

“What-” Monika stared back at her with the same amount of shock she knew she had to be mirroring. “What?” 

“You’re gonna get yourself killed running around like that. What’s the big rush?” 

Marzia’s jaw dropped when Julchen peered back at her from one of the alleyways, leaning against the wall with a hand wrapped around her waist. 

She really couldn’t believe her luck, her fate, whatever it was that had decided to tear apart the fragile hopes of a plan she tried so desperately to piece together. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Marzia stepped back for a minute and tried her best to plaster a smile to her face, even if her whole body was screaming for her to keep running. “I’ll just be on my way.” 

Before she could even think to turn around though, Monika’s hand darted out to grab her wrist. 

“Wait!” Monika’s eyes were still wide with shock, although that did little to weaken her iron grip. “Marzia, what happened?” 

She couldn’t do this. 

“Monika, please, I have to go-” 

No matter how hard she tried to pull her hand back though, she couldn’t shake off Monika’s hold. 

“Did something happen?” Monika tried again. “If you’re in trouble, we can help.” 

“Yeah, we got you.” Julchen slowly pushed herself off of the wall in order to make her way towards them, her hand never leaving its supporting position around her abdomen. “What’s wrong?” 

“Marzia!” 

Her head shot back when she heard Anneliese’s call, still faint with the distance between them, although that could all easily change in a matter of seconds. 

“I have to go, really,” she rushed out. 

“Just wait,” came Monika’s equally hurried reply. “Please, Marzia, what are you doing?” 

She couldn’t do this. 

“Monika, let go-” 

“No.” Monika pulled at her wrist, forcing her to bend over in order to keep tugging for her hand back. “Just tell me what’s wrong!” 

She couldn’t do this. 

“Marzia, please just talk to me!” Monika’s voice lost all hopes of concealing her pleading, her desperation, trying her best to keep Marzia in place. 

She couldn’t do this. 

But she had no choice.

“ _Let go!_ ” 

With one strong swing, Marzia managed to rip her hand free from Monika’s grip. 

Time blurred together, racing ahead in front of her eyes, but in that brief pause, she caught the look of sheer betrayal on Monika’s face. 

She couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t stay there. 

One thing at a time. 

Marzia brushed past Monika without another word, keeping her head ducked as she sprinted down the street. 

Her eyes already started to sting with tears, but she forced herself to blink them back when they started to blur her vision. She had lost enough time already. She needed to keep moving.

“Wait!” 

Marzia’s heart skipped a beat when she heard Monika’s voice call out for her, heavy footsteps pounding against the stone just behind her. 

“Marzia, wait!” 

She wanted to scream, she wanted to give up because now, it was all truly starting to fall apart and there was no way to fix it, no way to salvage it. 

But her legs kept working, pushing against the ground to keep her moving towards the outskirts of Verona and Marzia knew there was no way to stop them now. 

The wind bit at her skin and screamed in her ears, but Marzia pushed her body to keep sprinting against it. 

She had to keep going, even if she didn’t know what she would do when she finally came to a stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 2 am prime time for unrealistic drama babey!!


	46. Another Sin Upon the Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Isabella couldn’t shake the creeping feeling of discomfort that coiled under her skin when she finally stopped to catch her breath. 

The journey back to Verona hadn’t been nearly as frantic as her exit, but somehow, looking at what she had left behind was so much harder than turning her back in the first place. 

What she had once called her haven remained untouched, the vast field of flowers splayed out at her feet and stretching out over the plains. Across the endless sea of rippling violet, pink and white waves was the very edge of Verona, calm under the blanket of the night. 

The cool whisper of the wind guided her forward with the sway of the flowers, into the field that she had once cherished. 

If she allowed herself to drift away from the present, she could make out the bright laughter of her friends and the quiet admonishments of her lover through the rustling of the petals, an echo of happier times creeping back up to greet her. 

But Isabella forced herself to keep her eyes forward as she walked. She knew that just to her side would be where Julchen tackled Monika to the ground, where Chiara had begrudgingly accepted her hand. She didn’t know if she would see them again, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle them either way. 

So she kept moving forward past those safe memories until the flowers started to make way for an old dirt road, a far cry from the paved grounds of Verona. 

But it was here, away from the city, where her destination lied. 

She had never visited the graveyard herself, but looking at it now, she felt a chill run down her spine.

The rows of faded and chipped gravestones stood in a bleary contrast to the field behind her, the vibrant life of color leeched out in cold stone and dirt. Without a torch, there was little Isabella could do to cast away the heavy shadows that surrounded her. 

But even without a guiding light, she could still make out the silhouette of the crypt that stood high above the rest. 

Isabella still couldn't suspend her disbelief at the thought of finding Chiara in a place so void of life, stepping forward to look up at the stone monument. 

The marker for the Vargas family was about as intricate as she had expected, the marble carved into a steady symbol of the wealth of the family who owned it.

But that wasn't what truly forced Isabella to stop. 

It was when she looked down, down into the earth where the entrance laid at the bottom of the rugged steps did she pause. 

She couldn't describe the sensation of unease that settled over her as she stared down, searching the ground for an answer before it finally clicked.

In all of the time that Isabella had looked for Chiara, she had always looked up. 

Up where she waited on her balcony, up towards the starry night sky and the heavens above, always looking up so she could be graced with her presence when Chiara decided to look down. 

And Isabella's heart ached when she finally realized that she would always have to look down into the earth to find her now. 

Isabella couldn't bring herself to move, every part of her body resisting the unnatural pull to finally descend in order to meet Chiara again. 

But slowly, she forced herself to take the first step down, down into the earth where Chiara laid. 

An old iron gate, the metal faded away with time and rust, stopped her from progressing any further though. A quick look down confirmed that it was locked, but Isabella wouldn't allow such a thing to stop her now.

The screeching of the gate against the stone when she pushed against it made her jolt, freezing in place as panic rushed through her. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if someone had been summoned by the grating alarm.

But nobody came. 

Isabella let out a deep breath, the sound amplified in the silence. She forced herself to keep breathing, bracing herself with a firm inhale before she slammed her shoulder against the gate. 

Her ears ached with the shrill shriek of the old metal, forcing her to stagger back with a wince as she brought her hands up to cover them. 

Once more, she glanced over her shoulder, but found nobody there to greet her. 

It was risky and it was certainly irreversible, but the way was clear. There was nothing to stop her from entering the darkness herself now. 

Isabella could barely make out anything in front of her, what soft light the moon had to offer not nearly strong enough to illuminate the crypt itself. All she could see was the dark and whatever her imagination had conjured up in order to make sense of it all.

She forced herself to swallow down the concoction of pity and fear that had welled up inside of her. There was no place for such doubts now. 

So Isabella steeled herself and entered Chiara's tomb. 

The room itself was wide, filled with the graves of Chiara’s own ancestors, but Isabella couldn’t shake the feeling as if the walls were somehow growing narrower with each step she took. A chill crawled down her spine, the sky above locked away by the earth. 

Such a place wasn’t made to accommodate the living, only those who had no further need for the luxuries that life granted them. 

It was a place where Chiara didn’t belong. 

Isabella couldn’t tell how many stone coffins she had passed, how many bodies hidden away from the sky she brushed by. 

But she knew when to stop when she saw a body laid out on top of one. 

Isabella didn’t register the fact that she was still walking until her toes hit the steps that led up to the monument. But even then, picking her feet up became a task she could hardly keep up with when she finally got close enough to see Chiara resting on the stone. 

It was too familiar, her calm face, hands folded neatly to rest on her stomach, as if she had just fallen asleep. She had seen that expression when she finally managed to wake up to Chiara in her arms, the peace that came with unconsciousness. 

She didn’t allow herself to follow that train of thought. Even Isabella knew that lingering in the holds of denial would do neither of them any good now. 

She opened her mouth once, then closed it again, unable to bring herself to break the silence of the underground before she let out a whisper. 

“Chiara?” 

Even that breathless mumble was too loud, the sound swallowed up whole by the dark. 

She didn’t receive a response anyways. She didn’t know why she expected one. 

Isabella could hardly believe that Chiara was there at all, that she was finally able to see her again. She reached out with one hesitant hand, gently squeezing Chiara’s own. 

She didn’t squeeze back. 

And it finally struck her that this would be the last time she would see Chiara. Not alive and hopeful from the balcony, but dead underneath the earth. 

She had her chance to say her goodbyes and she threw them all away for a promise she couldn’t even keep. 

“Chiara,” she murmured, leaning over to smooth one hand over Chiara’s hair. Her face never changed. She never grimaced or opened her eyes. 

Isabella did her best to smile back at her anyways, even if she had to blink back the blurry tears that threatened to overtake her in the process. 

“I’m back.” She rubbed small circles into the back of Chiara’s hand with her thumb, the skin too cold to the touch to offer any comfort. “I said I would be, didn’t I?” 

Isabella had to cut herself off when her voice started to waver, pushing back the flood of words that nearly tumbled out of her mouth. 

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said quietly, “but I’m here now. I didn’t-” 

She forced herself to take a shaky exhale as she brought one hand up to wipe at her eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” 

But her apology went unheard by the one person she so desperately needed to present it to and as soon as that thought sank in, Isabella found all of those jumbled emotions spilling out of her. 

“I know I should have come back sooner, but I didn’t know how.” She let out a quiet laugh, one still loud enough to shatter the silence of the crypt. “I would have taken you with me though, if I could. I think you’d like the place I found.” 

She leaned down to rest her weight on her elbow, brushing back Chiara’s hair the way she had done for her.

“It’s big enough for both of us, and the town is really pretty too,” she whispered. “It’s a lot quieter than Verona. I thought you might like that.” 

It hurt to keep her smile up, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it drop now. 

“Looks like you decided to leave on your own though.” 

Isabella’s fingers paused, threaded through the locks of dark brown hair in front of her. 

“I don’t blame you,” she said, “I just wish I could have been there with you before you left.” 

She had to dip her head and close her eyes, her breath briefly hiccuping in her throat before she could catch herself. What other words of comfort she could offer, she didn’t know. 

She was already too late. 

The pitch black drowned out any light that the surface could offer, leaving Isabella alone with Chiara’s body. But for a moment, she could have sworn she saw something shift in her face, a flicker of movement. 

Isabella stared down at her with wide eyes only for that illusion to be revealed when she saw the warm orange light of a torch distort the shadows that had kept her from sight. 

The harsh click of boots against the stone echoed through the enclosed space, the sound bouncing and splitting off the walls until she could hardly tell how close her visitor had come. 

“You just can’t keep yourself out of other people’s business, can you?” 

Isabella straightened herself back up and turned around in a flash, only to see a woman she had never seen in her life descending down the stairs. The torch in her hand cast away the dark, revealing every hidden secret the tomb had to offer in the flickering fire. 

And in that light, Isabella saw a pair of sharp green eyes stare her down. 

“I don’t know why you bothered to come back.” She stepped over to the wall, reaching out to set the torch against the wedge embedded in the stone. “Show some respect for the dead. You’ve done enough here already.” 

The woman made no move to approach her, but Isabella still tensed up, hand jolting to rest on the hilt of her sword. 

“Who are you?” she asked slowly. 

She received only a confused look in response before it quickly melted away into some cold form of understanding. 

“Right,” she hummed. “I suppose we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting before.” 

With that, the woman offered a smile too tight to be considered genuine, her gaze still just a little too sharp to offer friendship. 

“Sanem. Sanem Adnan.” She took a step forward, her posture unfaltering even as Isabella pulled back in return. “I believe you decided to go after something of mine.” 

Isabella drew a blank when she heard that name at first, shuffling through face after face in her mind only to find no match. It was only when she started to dig a little deeper, back to any mention of that name, did she remember what Andrea had written to her.

And she finally realized that she was looking at the woman who would have married Chiara.

The woman who Chiara didn’t _want_ to marry. 

“I have to say it’s a bold choice to come back now,” Sanem continued, her slow pace never once stopping. “And I’m afraid I don’t have any intention of letting you leave again.”

Isabella barely registered her words at all though. All she could focus on was that marriage, what Chiara had admitted to her in the field, what Andrea had reported to her in clipped messages. 

She didn’t know what she felt when she first entered the tomb, but she could recognize the first burning hints of rage that bubbled up in her chest now. 

“You-” 

Sanem’s smile only grew with her struggle to speak, although it still remained as cold as ever. 

“I really don’t know why you thought any of this would be a good idea.” Her gaze drifted over to rest next to Isabella. “Even now, you keep insisting on making Chiara fall with you.”

“ _Shut up!_ ” 

Isabella didn’t know when she started moving or when she drew her sword at all, but she soon found herself harshly pulled back down to earth with the harsh clash of metal against metal. 

She didn’t have a chance to catch up with what she had done before she had to jerk her hand up in order to block Sanem’s swing down. But that was almost better, to let the adrenaline keep her body moving and shut out the volatile emotions that threatened to break her on the spot. 

Her heart pounded in her chest and her head spun with every sharp action she took, the room fading in and out in the faltering light of the torch. She didn’t know if she was still underground. She couldn’t tell if she was still moving anymore, but each strike of metal forced her back down in a steady rhythm before she could completely lose herself. 

The only thing she could hold onto with certainty now was the fact that the woman in front of her was the reason why Chiara was lying dead under the earth in the first place. 

And finally, all of the guilt that had burned her for so long could be cast onto somebody else who truly deserved it. 

Isabella slammed the butt of her sword into Sanem’s chest, sending her stumbling backwards with a sharp heave. Before she could even bring her arm back up though, Sanem lashed out with a broad swing, forcing her to jump back before the blade could cut through its target. 

“How selfish are you?” Sanem spat out. “You just keep on putting yourself where you don’t belong.” 

“Just shut up!” 

Isabella brought her arm down with a force foreign to her, one with no intention to hold back if her blow landed. 

And she knew as soon as she started to move that such a move was too hasty, that she had left herself too open just a second too late to take it back. 

The searing jolt of pain that ripped through her abdomen was unlike any other she had felt, a burning iron pressed into her skin to tear at the layers of muscle and flesh only to be ripped out with a sharp tug of Sanem’s arm. 

But Isabella’s focus still narrowed down onto her opponent, the frenzy of emotion pushing her forward to throw aside the pain and keep moving. 

She brought the blunt edge of her sword down on Sanem’s head, the impact strong enough to send her arm bouncing back. But that was enough to get her to cry out and drop her sword, bringing her hand up to cover her head with a groan. 

Another blow and she was on the ground, motionless under the uncertain light. Isabella couldn’t tell if she was still conscious, or if she was alive at all, but the drop of adrenaline slammed her focus back into her head. 

Her sword fell with a clatter, the metal bouncing briefly against the stone before it rolled away. 

She doubled over with a gasp, wrapping an arm just above the bloodstained tear in her shirt. The tears came before she realized that she was crying, unable to stop them with each sharp burst of pain that tore through her. 

Standing hurt. Moving hurt. She didn’t know how to fix it, but she knew she wanted it to _stop_. 

Isabella forced herself to breathe, heaving for air only for each motion of her chest to rip through her just as cruelly as Sanem’s sword had. She just wanted it to stop. 

Moving her feet was a Herculean task now, but somehow, Isabella managed to stagger her way over to where Chiara laid. 

As soon as she could brace herself against the stone, Isabella nearly collapsed, barely managing to keep herself standing. That too nearly tore a scream out of her, one that she forced herself to bite back. 

She didn’t know if the rush of dizziness was just the result of her heart working so fast or if she was truly starting to lose consciousness. 

She didn’t want to know the answer. 

“Chiara.” Isabella could barely get herself to speak, but the second she could force out that word, she latched onto it with all she had. “Chiara, Chiara, Chiara-” 

Whether she was crying because of the pain or the lack of an answer, she couldn’t tell. Isabella kept pressing on regardless, bringing one hand up to firmly grasp Chiara’s. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Her vision blurred enough to throw Chiara’s face out of focus, although it didn’t clear up when she brought a hand up to wipe at her eyes. 

“I know that must have been scary, but I’m here now.” Isabella’s grip tightened with a wince when her abdomen burst out in a burning complaint against that small action. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

She didn’t know if she was saying those words for her own sake or for Chiara’s. The attempt at comfort remained vague and desperate either way, useless in the face of her panic. 

She wouldn’t see those sharp brown eyes open again. She wouldn’t hear the brash insults and soft words of affection she had come to crave. Now, she wasn’t sure if she would even see the sun again. 

And Isabella realized then that such a death truly terrified her. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her words started to melt together in her mouth, barely able to string a sentence together. “You just-” 

Isabella had to stop when she nearly toppled over, nausea spinning her head in circles that threw her whole body off balance. 

“You just need to wait a little longer, okay?” she murmured. “Just a little longer.” 

She didn’t know when she started to feel so tired. 

“I’ll be there with you in a minute.” When she couldn’t keep her head up any longer, Isabella let it fall to rest on Chiara’s chest. 

Her whole body felt heavy, the pain thrumming in a dull beat. 

She wanted to go to sleep. 

“I mean it this time,” she said. “I’ll be there with you.” 

Her head pounded, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beat of her heart. She let her eyes fall shut for a brief moment, just to catch her breath. 

When she opened them again, she found herself on the floor, slumped over with the cold stone against her back. 

She didn’t think she had the energy to get back up, but she supposed it didn’t matter. 

Isabella smiled. 

She knew Chiara would hear her anyways. 

“Just wait for me.” 

And with that, after the days of stress and terror that had kept her up into the night, Isabella finally let herself fall asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh yeah those of you who saw the Door Discourse on tumblr, here's the solution we got now hope you enjoy


	47. Transgression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Marzia couldn’t handle the silence. 

She almost wished she still had Anneliese or Monika behind her, if only to have the presence of another living being with her in the graveyard. Each huff for air sounded too loud, every step too harsh in the heavy calm. 

But she forced herself to keep walking regardless, staggering past the rows of gravestones on aching legs. 

The dark forced her to remain ever vigilant for what she couldn’t see, tension riding down her muscles no matter how much she tried to relax. The only thought that she repeated to herself now was the fact that she didn’t want to be alone.

Whatever progress she made in her attempt at calming herself down was quickly revoked though when she noticed the faint orange light emerging from the bottom of her family’s tomb. 

Marzia hurried her pace, stopping at the edge of the stairs to peer down only to freeze when she saw the gate already opened.

She hadn’t thought about the alternative, of someone else alone in the dark with her.

For a moment, Marzia found herself stuck in place, only able to stare down the steps with wide eyes and wait for someone to climb back up and catch her yet again. But no matter how long she waited, nobody darted out to stop her. 

She couldn’t hear anything coming from below either; no quiet footsteps or whispered conversation. Only the flickering remnants of a visitor who wasn’t supposed to be there either. 

Marzia waited just a second longer, leaning down just in case there was some hidden cue that she had missed. With no sign of an intruder though, Marzia glanced over her shoulder once more and slowly crept down the steps herself. 

She stopped on the last step, reaching out to steady herself against the wall before she carefully peered inside. 

The torch on the wall drew her eye first, the fire still lit and alive to cast a haphazard glow across the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the wavering light. Marzia squinted in an attempt to clear out her vision. 

She straightened up and glanced around the crypt. 

There was something she was missing. 

Although once Marzia saw Isabella slumped over by Chiara’s body, she didn’t know how she missed it at all. 

“Oh my god.” 

It took her a moment to realize that she had spoken at all, even if her voice was nothing more than a breathless whisper. 

Marzia crept forward, eyes fixed on both Chiara and Isabella, waiting for one of them to get up and start moving. Neither of them did though, leaving behind only an eerie calm that Marzia couldn’t break alone.

Her heart dropped when she saw the crimson staining Isabella’s shirt, the wound concealed under layers of crumpled fabric and poor illumination. Marzia glanced around the room frantically, searching for any sign of a weapon only to find none. 

She didn’t know what happened, but she knew now that whatever she did now wouldn’t matter. 

All of the hasty planning, mumbled goodbyes, all of it was snatched away from her in one fell swoop.

And she didn’t know how to fix it. 

Marzia knelt down, reaching out with one hand to gently shake Isabella’s shoulder. 

“Isabella?” 

She received no response, Isabella only limply following each motion until Marzia finally stopped. 

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, working hard enough to send a sharp pang through her ribs. She looked up uselessly at Chiara, who remained silent under the work of the nightshade. 

Marzia barely managed to keep herself from falling under the sudden onslaught of nausea that overtook her. Her eyes stung and her limbs felt heavy, the weight of what she had done finally starting to catch up with her. 

She had made a mistake. 

And she didn’t know how to fix it. 

Marzia managed to grab the ledge of the stone above her, pulling herself up to stare down at her sister. 

“Chiara?” she mumbled. “Chiara, can you get up now?” 

When she heard only silence, Marzia reached out to clasp a hand around Chiara’s arm and jostle her ever so slightly.

“Chiara, I don’t know what to do.” Marzia’s grip tightened enough to make her own fingers ache. “I don’t know-” 

She had to stop herself in order to breathe, but that pause barely lasted a second before her words came tumbling back out of her mouth.

“I don’t know what to do Chiara, please, I can’t-” 

No matter how much she pleaded though, Chiara never woke up. Everything was starting to fall onto Marzia’s shoulders and she had no one left to turn to. 

She wished for a second, just a desperate, fleeting second, that she could be in Chiara’s place. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Marzia jolted upright when she heard that voice from the shadows, all of the air leaving her lungs in a harsh gasp. 

She couldn’t tell who had spoken at first, barely able to see past the steps in the faint light. Her gaze instinctively flickered over to the vague silhouette of movement just a little further down the room before she registered it. 

And Marzia wanted nothing more than to cry when she saw Sanem stagger out of the shadows. 

“Are you,” Sanem’s sentence wavered off into a low groan as she closed her eyes. “Are you with her too?” 

Sanem’s eyes trailed down to where Isabella’s body laid, a clear trail of where she thought her guilt lied. 

Marzia’s throat closed up, unable to get a word out as she stared back at her like a trapped animal. 

Sanem let out a huff. 

“Should have seen that coming.” Sanem briefly lowered her head before she met Marzia's gaze again. “You really are just like your sister.” 

Marzia felt a hint of confusion when Sanem leaned down only for it to morph into a sharp jolt of terror when Sanem reappeared with her sword in her hand. 

"I came to pay my respects,” she said quietly, “and I’m getting tired of you all standing in my way.” 

And behind the pleasant mask that Marzia had seen Sanem don, she saw a hint of true anger dart across her face. 

“Move, Marzia.” 

Marzia couldn’t move at first, muscles locked in place with the sudden jolt of fear. But as soon as she managed to regain some control, she slowly shook her head. 

She still had Chiara behind her, and that thought became her only source of comfort when Sanem’s face twisted even further. 

“I said move.” 

Marzia shook her head again. 

That seemed to be enough for Sanem, who finally stepped forward and brought her arm up. 

“ _Marzia-_ ” 

Whatever Sanem planned to say next was choked off by a sharp yelp when another sword cut through her arm. 

“Stop.” 

Monika’s voice sent a chill down Marzia’s spine, all the gentle reassurances she had come to expect from her wiped away by a steel tone. She could only watch as Monika kept her arm raised, the edge of her blade fixed on Sanem’s back. 

Marzia had no idea when she had arrived at all, but she didn’t bother to try and question it now. 

Sanem, on the other hand, only seemed to be fueled by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Why are _you_ here?” She turned around to face Monika before she threw her arm up back towards Marzia. “Why are any of you here?” 

“Because-” 

And Marzia had never felt more regret in her life when Sanem’s eyes locked onto her with nothing but rage. She knew in that second that nothing she could say now would save the situation. 

The very act of speaking had become her downfall, so it seemed. 

But Sanem pressed forward for her answer anyways. “Because what?” 

Marzia scrambled backwards, bracing her hands against the stone when Sanem stepped forward only for her to jolt back and throw her arm up in a deafening crash of metal when Monika firmly placed herself between them. 

“I don’t know why either of you are here too, but this is not the way to handle it,” she continued. “Put your sword away.” 

That command did little to sway Sanem though. Even with Monika in front of her, Marzia could still feel that piercing gaze fixed on her. Marzia didn’t know if she had even heard Monika at all.

“You’re with her too.” Her voice sounded distant, although why exactly that was, Marzia couldn’t tell. “Both of you.” 

But knew Marzia knew what would come next. 

Harsh, boiling anger would simmer down into a calculating void and from there, action would be as simple as a swing of her arm. 

It seemed as if Monika had managed to predict that next action as well when Sanem stepped forward, visibly tensing up even in the faint light. 

And the second Sanem raised her arm, Monika snapped her blade up to catch Sanem’s before it could land a blow. 

Whatever Marzia could hope to do next was thrown aside by the whirlwind of thunderous clattering of metal and fumbled footsteps that burst out of the quiet tomb. In the faltering light, she couldn’t tell where Monika started and where Sanem ended, the two blending together in a shadowy mess. 

She dug her nails into the stone and watched, unable to help. There was nothing she could do. 

Isabella still remained slumped over at her feet. She didn’t know how to help Monika. The world, it seemed, had become hellbent on making sure her hopeless plans couldn’t come to light. 

And when she heard the quiet groan behind her, Marzia knew that her idle suspicion had just been proven to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost done with act 5 boys. just a little more angst and then we're in the clear for the bullshit final act i made to give this a happy ending


	48. To My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Rosaline - Marzia Vargas (Fem! N. Italy)  
> Paris - Sanem Adnan (Fem! Turkey)  
> Benvolio - Monika Beilschmidt (Fem! Germany)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara had known that she wouldn’t wake up in her bedroom, but to see nothing but the dark above her still brought up the inevitable question of where exactly she had ended up.

Her head ached as she shook off the last remnants of her sleep, drowsiness settling over her in a viscous haze. What little she could see through her narrowed eyes remained blurry at best, all sound muffled to her ears. 

The chill of the stone against her back was uncomfortable, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. That odd sensation was what kept her from falling back asleep, dragging her consciousness forth until she had no choice but to finally take in the world around her. 

And before she knew it, she was forced right back into reality when the deafening clash of metal roared painfully in her ears. 

Chiara pressed her hands up to her head with a low groan, doing her best to rub away the sting of a headache that had started to form from her rude awakening. 

Why Isabella was being so loud now, she didn’t know. 

All of the different thoughts she wanted to vocalize from hushed questions to low complaints swam through her head in a dizzying array. She didn’t have the energy to pick them apart, but she managed to least start with getting that noise to finally quiet down. 

“Shut up,” she grumbled, pressing her palms into her eyes. 

But the clattering continued on regardless of her order. 

“God, just-” Whatever phrase she wanted to use to end that sentence quickly unraveled into an incomprehensible mumble. 

Irritation started to pound through her temples, throwing whatever willpower she had into the steadily growing flame of impulsive anger. 

“I said _shut up_!"

She dragged her hand down her face with a vicious glare only to find Marzia's wide-eyed stare aimed right back at her when she opened her eyes again. 

For a brief minute, Chiara assumed that she had fallen asleep again. Whatever dreams her mind couldn't quite let go of just yet had somehow blended into reality in a rather confusing mixture that she couldn't pick apart.

But as she kept staring back, Marzia never once faltered or disappeared like an illusion. The harsh shouting and clanging of metal never once silenced. 

And Chiara wasn't sure where that put her now. 

"The hell are you doing here?" she mumbled. 

She received no answer. Marzia’s face remained frozen in that odd slack-jawed state of shock, one that Chiara was sure that she would have been mirroring if she had the strength to. 

After all, Marzia wasn’t the one who was supposed to be here now.

A slow glance around the room revealed no sign of Isabella and no explanation for her absence either. It became clear enough that Marzia wouldn’t be offering any answers yet though, so Chiara assumed that looking for herself would offer much quicker results.

The clamor ahead of her still pulsed painfully throughout her temples as she rolled her head to the side and squinted. In the wavering light of a torch, she caught the hazy outline of two people just a little ways away from her, unable to set their figures straight in the constant flurry of motion. 

It took a minute to piece together what was wrong, to go beyond the general feeling of discomfort and truly look into the details. 

Isabella was still only one person. There were three people underground with her. 

Chiara blinked slowly as she mulled over that thought, running it over through her head until she finally reached her conclusion. 

She turned her head back to face Marzia. 

Something was wrong.

“Marzia,” she asked slowly, “what’s going on?” 

That call seemed to be enough to shake Marzia out of whatever daze she had settled herself in, her mouth opening and closing uselessly, but it still wasn’t enough for an answer. 

“Marzia?” 

When nothing else came out of her repetition, Chiara’s lips curled down into a frown as she braced her hands against the stone in order to start pushing herself up. 

“Wait!” 

Before Chiara had realized what had happened, she found herself nearly bowled back over when Marzia suddenly sprang up, snatching her up in a tight hold and effectively keeping her pinned in place. 

Chiara slammed her hands back down in order to catch herself, letting out a yelp when the harsh sting against her palms bit against her skin. 

As soon as she was flat against the stone again, Marzia’s grip tightened hard enough to ache. 

“Just wait,” she repeated. “I- the letter-” 

Chiara only stared down at her sister, left at a complete loss for words. “What?” 

She could visibly see Marzia struggling to translate her thoughts into something more coherent, scrunching her brow for a moment before all of her haste melted away into a hollow acceptance.

“I don’t know.” Marzia's words slurred together as they tumbled out of her mouth. “I don’t know, I don’t know what to do, but just stay here for now, okay?” 

Chiara didn't grace that desperate question with an answer. Her attention wandered over to the whirlwind of motion ahead of her, squinting in order to make out who exactly had arrived. 

The too-soft glow of the torch offered little help, but eventually, she managed to catch a glimpse of Monika stumbling backwards and bringing her blade up just in time to catch Sanem’s blow. 

She could only watch on, unable to truly process the scene in front of her with all of its implications. She didn’t even know where to start at that point. 

All she knew was that Isabella wasn’t there. 

Chiara looked back down at Marzia, to the haphazard duel in front of her, all of it too surreal for it not to be a deceptively convincing dream. 

Ever so slowly, she inched her way back up, careful to avoid jostling Marzia in the process until she could finally sit up. That little action seemed to go unnoticed, but as soon as she started to pull her legs back, Marzia finally sprang back to life. 

“No!” Marzia grabbed her shoulders and forced her to turn back around in order to face her. “Wait. Just look at me.” 

Chiara back protested with that sudden twist, but even in the spur of the moment, she still caught the frantic glance just below her that Marzia shot. 

“Huh?” Chiara tried to turn her head to see what had caught Marzia’s eye, but any attempt at moving was quickly stifled by her iron grip. “What are you doing? Just hurry up and get off.” 

But Marzia never budged. 

“Just look at me,” she said. “Please.” 

It finally sank in then that none of this was right. 

The sound of Monika and Sanem’s haphazard duel, Marzia desperate attempt at leadership, none of it was supposed to be happening. 

The chill of the underground finally settled over Chiara’s skin, draining out what little life she had managed to regain. 

Something was wrong.

“Where’s Isabella?” 

That question slipped out before she could catch herself, but her answer came in a flash when Marzia faltered. Whatever attempt she had made to pull herself together was falling apart right in front of Chiara’s eyes. 

“Just wait.” Her fingers curled themselves into the sleeves of Chiara’s dress, lips pursing to form a trembling line. “Just wait.” 

That wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear and she knew it wasn’t the one Marzia wanted to give. 

“Marzia-” 

“Just wait.” 

Her voice was already starting to waver, the telltale shine to her eyes flashing in the faint light. 

Chiara had seen Marzia cry so many times before. She didn't know why seeing it now unsettled her. 

It took a moment before she realized that Marzia had always been one to cry openly and that for all of the years that she knew her sister, Chiara had never seen her try to stifle her tears. 

The quiet alarm grew louder in her head, spinning with the clashing of steel until she could hardly reorient herself. 

Something was wrong. 

In the shadows, the ground seemed to cave in, the walls pressing closer out of the corner of her eyes. Air became harder to capture in that tight grip and Chiara had to fight in order to find enough to keep breathing. 

Everything was growing too close, Marzia's weight too heavy. 

She had to get out. 

The second she tried to pull her legs back though, Marzia clung even tighter to her, but Chiara managed to keep her at bay with one hand as she moved to stand with the other.

“Chiara, wait,” Marzia rushed out, grappling to catch her arm again. “Wait!” 

“Get off of me.” Chiara brushed away Marzia’s hand none too gently, too fixated on her single concern to focus on her strength. “I don’t know what happened and I don’t care. Let’s get out of here.”

Any other attempt that Marzia could have made to stop her went unnoticed as Chiara swung her legs over the edge and slid down. Her legs nearly gave out the second she touched the ground though, muscles weak from disuse and balance torn to shreds after her long sleep. 

She vaguely felt Marzia’s hand try to pull her back up, but she was quick to push her away in favor of leaning against the stone herself to catch her breath. 

“I’m fine,” she bit out. “Just give me a minute.” 

“But-” 

“We have to go.” Chiara didn’t let Marzia speak again. “Tell me what happened later.”

She dropped her head in order to catch her breath, gritting her teeth together as she slowly started to adjust herself to carry her own weight again. 

Her blood rushed through her ears, blotting out the world around her for a moment as she briefly glanced down. 

She didn’t mean anything by it. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. 

She didn’t think Isabella would be by her feet. 

Shock jolted down her spine before an odd dreamy haze settled over her, carefully muffling out everything else to let her take in the sight in front of her in silence. 

Relief quickly flooded through her, lips quirking up into a small smile before it was frozen over by a single observation. Isabella never moved, slouched over without a single twitch of her lips or a mumbled sigh to announce her sleep.

Something was wrong.

Slowly, she brought herself down to kneel on the ground, eyes fixed on Isabella. 

Chiara reached out with a hesitant hand, pausing for a moment before she carefully shook Isabella’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” she mumbled. “You’re supposed to be the one waking me up.” 

Such a greeting felt too light-hearted, but Chiara couldn’t bring herself to be concerned about that now. She thought she could hear Marzia saying something to her, but that could have just as easily been a figment of her imagination. She didn’t particularly care which one it was. 

“Isabella.” She shook a little harder this time. “Get up.” 

It felt almost sacrilegious to move her so violently when she got no response, the two of them deep underneath the earth in a crude imitation of the dead. 

But when Chiara saw the bloodstained tear in Isabella’s shirt, she realized that perhaps what she had taken to be an imitation wasn’t as false as she had originally thought. 

Her heart pounded against her chest as she leaned forward, gripping onto both of Isabella’s shoulders as she tried to duck in order to catch a glimpse of her face. 

“Isabella,” she muttered frantically. “Isabella, get up. I said get up.” 

Chiara brought a hand up to push Isabella’s hair out of her face, fingers fluttering over her skin without knowing where to settle. She glanced back down at her shirt, pausing once before she let that hand fall to the open wound. 

Isabella never startled awake though when she pressed against the cut in her skin and for a moment, Chiara was convinced that the slippery mess that coated her fingertips was nothing more than her imagination. 

She brought her hand back up and stopped when she caught the dark crimson on her hand. 

Something was going on behind her. She felt a brief brush against her shoulder before it was promptly yanked away, Marzia’s desperate reassurances warping into a shrill shriek. 

“What?” 

In some part of her mind, Chiara knew that Sanem was speaking to her, that she was standing behind her and that she was more than capable of doing what she pleased now. But it still never quite connected that such a scenario was actually happening, not when she heard Monika’s harsh call for Marzia before the clash of metal sprang back up again. 

All she had eyes for now was the evidence that was coated on her skin. 

Chiara stared at Isabella, unmoving and unseeing. 

And then it finally set in. 

“Isabella?” 

She reached out with one hesitant hand to gently cup Isabella’s cheek. As soon as she saw the smeared crimson stain that she left behind, Chiara recoiled back, but that new streak of blood only served to make what little cause for denial she had left to come crashing down. 

Everything was too loud, the crying, the fighting; all of it was too much.

Perhaps the ground truly was caving in. Perhaps they were finally being sealed underground as the dead were supposed to be.

"Isabella,” she choked out. “Get up, get up, _please._ ” 

She wrapped her arms around Isabella’s waist, desperately pulling her closer. But Isabella never returned the gesture, never brought her arms up to gently hold her and soothe her and this time, Chiara realized that she never would now. 

Her eyes started to sting with unshed tears, ones that welled back up no matter how many times she tried to wipe them away. 

Isabella belonged up above in the open fields and winding streets, with the bustling crowds and alleyways filled to the brim with life. Not here, not in the dark, not buried deep under the ground, away from the light and cut off from the broad sky through layers of dirt and stone. 

And yet the reason why Isabella was trapped somewhere where she didn’t belong was because of Chiara’s mistake. 

At first, her throat cinched up to strangle any attempt at speech that she could offer only for those words to be swallowed up again by sharp gasps and heaving breaths. 

But eventually, Chiara managed to rush something out. 

“I’m sorry.” 

There were too many thoughts pulsing through her head for her to get them all out, and the second she found a phrase that she managed to choke out, she latched onto that small comfort in repetition in order to translate everything else she couldn’t bring herself to say. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” 

She wanted to go back to sleep. She wanted to wake up and try again. 

“I’m- Isa, I can’t, I’m sorry-” 

She wanted to try again. 

“Oh my god, Isa, god, I’m sorry-”

_She wanted to try again._

Whatever runaway thoughts she could capture quickly slipped out of her grasp when the room erupted into sound, raised voices and heavy footsteps bouncing off of the walls in a painful echo. Someone else had arrived, more people and it was all too much, all of it was too wrong. 

All of it melted together until Chiara could hardly tell who was who anymore, but she kept her attention fixed on Isabella in front of her. 

Chiara dropped her head, burying her face into the crook of Isabella’s neck with a shuddering gasp, pressing herself closer to shut out what she was sure was going on behind her. She could hear more people coming, too many, none of them where they were supposed to be. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her grip. 

More shouting, more yelling, the clattering of metal against the stone, all of it was too loud and with no other choice, Chiara clung to Isabella. 

Familiarity seemed too far of a reach for what she could connect now; Anneliese’s biting tone and Julchen’s harsh voice tearing through the room, Marianne’s rushed prayers fluttering out alongside Marzia’s shrieking wails and Sanem’s deafening attempt at an accusation.

If she kept talking, then she could fill her head with her own voice and drown out what threatened to overwhelm her.

If she kept her eyes shut, if she kept herself safe in Isabella’s arms, then she could pretend that her plan had worked after all.

“Chiara?” 

That voice nearly broke her, but Chiara kept herself firmly pressed to Isabella, burrowing her face deeper into the crook of her neck as if that would somehow manage to make her mother disappear.

Another set of footsteps and then a breathless swear. 

“Christ, Isabella-” 

She didn’t care. There were too many people already and she just wanted to be alone with Isabella. 

So when she felt a hand clamp onto her shoulder and start to pull, that broken repetition finally shattered into a scream. 

“ _Get off of me!_ ” 

She clung to Isabella, digging her fingers into her shirt, but that pull never ceased. The frantic conversation above her didn’t go unnoticed, but with her blood rushing in her ears, Chiara barely managed to catch what her mother and Andrea were saying.

“Chiara, please-” 

“Get her off already! Isabella’s going-” 

“-trying to, just grab her hand-”

And then Andrea’s hand pried her fingers off, Octavia darting out to grab her arms the second they were free before she could yank them back. Her throat ached and her vision blurred, but Chiara still shook her head and writhed in Octavia’s grasp. 

When her mother finally managed to pull her back with a firm tug, sending them both tumbling to the ground, a scream finally tore itself from Chiara’s throat.

“Get off of me!” That new mantra ripped apart her voice, wavering with the unfiltered rush of adrenaline the longer she thrashed. “Get off, get off, get off of me!” 

She could hear her mother crying too, the sound of her hushed gasps mirroring her frantic heaving, but she didn’t dare to look up and face her. 

“Chiara, oh my god-” 

And in that tumultuous second, she saw Andrea rush down to Isabella’s side, sharp swears and prayers intertwining as she tore at Isabella’s shirt. 

Chiara couldn’t tell what happened after that, trapped in the desperate need to reach out for Isabella once more. But she soon found herself thrown back into her body when she felt Octavia start to pull her back towards the stairs. 

“No!” She kicked, screamed, thrashed in her mother’s arms, but nothing she did loosened the iron grip on her. “Let go of me!” 

And as she was pulled back, Chiara finally realized that she was being forced to leave. 

She would leave and Isabella would stay behind. 

She couldn’t let that happen. 

“Isabella!” Her voice was horace with use, scratchy and wavering until it was nearly incomprehensible. “Isabella, Isabella!” 

But Octavia kept making her way up and Chiara could do nothing but watch as Isabella remained slumped against the stone, in the crypt she didn’t belong in. 

It was too easy to miss what was happening around her. She knew that Marianne was checking Monika over for wounds, knew that Marzia was sobbing into Anneliese’s arms, knew that Julchen was wrestling Sanem to the ground, but all of that seemed far away from Isabella. 

She didn’t care. She just wanted to try again. 

“Isa-” she gasped out. 

That name couldn’t be finished when it finally broke down into a wail.

Her hair fell in a flurry over her face, cutting out her already limited vision until she was no better than a wounded animal giving her final, desperate fight. Nothing that could be called a language came out of her mouth, last-ditch pleas and boiling screams melting together. 

She was more than ready to keep fighting and lose herself completely, but a sharp jerk of her head soon sent her reeling. 

Nausea quickly set in with a dangerous form of vertigo, slowly sapping the energy from her body. With no strength left to throw her emotion out, Chiara was left with nothing more than a hollow body that she couldn’t pilot herself. 

She didn’t know if the dizziness came as a parting gift from the nightshade or if she truly did drain herself in that little amount of time, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about which one it was just yet. 

Chiara was ready to claw out the energy she needed to keep fighting, but there was no source left to turn to now even if she wanted to. She found herself completely empty.

She didn’t know when she became so tired, or when all of her strength seeped out of her body fast enough to make her legs buckle under her, but there was little she could do now.

And as she blinked back the sleepy haze that settled over her once more, Chiara only held onto the small hope that when she woke up again, she would somehow be granted that second chance that she was so desperate for. 


	49. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Lord Capulet - Octavia Vargas (Fem! Rome)  
> Nurse - Elizabeta Héderváry (Hungary)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

When she woke up again, the feeling of silk, not stone, greeted her. 

The bed was soft, sheets carefully pressed and layered in a neat pile of soft fabrics and smooth covers. Under the blankets, Chiara felt nothing but warmth, almost uncomfortably so. 

But there was something missing, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

She didn’t bother to open her eyes, sinking into the plush pillow under her head. 

It took her a moment to get her thoughts in order and pull them out of their drowsy lull, but soon enough, she managed to identify what exactly she was missing. 

There was no breeze from the open balcony, no rustle of the flowers below nor any heat that crept inside with the rise of the morning sun. 

This wasn’t her room. 

The moment she made that connection, the rest of the blurry picture in her head started to refocus itself, slowly working backwards until she had to confront what exactly had happened. 

That thought brought that cold feeling of emptiness back, forcing her back into the dark underground where Marzia had been waiting for her, and Sanem had seen her again, and Isabella-

She stopped. 

She didn’t want to think about that. 

Foolish of a thought as it was, Chiara kept her eyes shut in the hope that maybe her senses had tricked her, that maybe she was back in her tomb where Isabella would be waiting for her and she would finally be free from Verona. 

Trying to hold onto that belief only made her feel sick though, the gnawing sense of disrespect that burrowed deep in her stomach. Denial was a selfish comfort and really, she didn’t have the right to indulge in it after what Isabella was giving up for her. 

Had given up for her. 

No matter where she looked now, there really was nowhere left for her to go and now, Chiara was too tired to try and keep running. 

There was no destination left for her anyways. 

Even if she wanted to keep herself in that cycle of sleep, she forced herself out of it anyways and opened her eyes. 

As she had expected, the room wasn’t one that she recognized. Small, but tidy with nothing more than a closed window to offer a view of the outside world. 

However, her eyes were quickly drawn to the form of her mother sitting down next to her. 

The moment she turned to look though, Octavia’s head snapped up with a surprised stare to meet her own. Her posture was slouched, eyes unfocused, such a far cry from the memory that Chiara had of her that she was taken aback for a moment. 

Neither of them said a word to each other. There was nothing really to say. 

All of the events of the previous night hung uncomfortably over Chiara’s shoulders and she knew for a fact that her mother felt the same. She didn’t even know how to begin to explain herself, or where the overlap between her story and Octavia’s started. 

She could feel Octavia studying her, face tense with worry before she finally leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

Chiara stared blankly back at her.

“That’s what you’re starting with?” she asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

Octavia only seemed to slouch even further with that, crossing her arms and briefly dropping her head. 

“I don’t know what else you would want to answer,” she finally answered. “I don’t even know what to say myself.” 

That response almost felt too lackluster, just a little too out of the ordinary to settle right with Chiara. 

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m fine.” 

She had expected something along the extremes of her emotions, whether that be a harsh swing back into the parental condemnation or a wild attempt at righting everything between them. But to see her mother drained off all of her bravado left Chiara’s stomach twisting for a reason she couldn’t explain.

She still didn’t know how to bridge the gap between them, but Chiara didn’t think she would be able to stand the silence any longer. 

“Where’s Marzia?”

Octavia startled at that, a flicker of confusion darting across her face before she nodded her head towards the door.

“Sleeping in the other room. She’ll wake up soon,” she said quietly. “Anna’s doing alright too. Eliza and Marianne have been checking in on both of them.” 

Chiara nodded along, even if she barely took in the majority of the words being said to her. 

“Hilda let us stay with her for the night. Said it would be easier to sort this all out in the morning.” 

And that was it. 

The silence crept up between them as soon as Octavia stopped talking, quick to bear down on their backs with the weight of the matter at hand. It physically hurt to keep dancing around the subject they both clearly wanted to approach, the one that stuck out between them as clear as day. 

Chiara’s mouth grew dry at the thought of having to break that tension herself, but the alternative of being stuck in a limbo of false ignorance and small talk was enough for her to steel her nerves and dive across the gap that awaited her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” Perhaps that was too abrupt, but Chiara refused to slow down now that she had finally found her momentum to keep going. “I thought you’d want to know what happened to your dead daughter.” 

The tension that had been pulled so taut over the course of their conversation was finally released with that question, and now they were both left faltering in the newfound freedom of range that Chiara had thrown them into. 

She didn’t miss the way Octavia’s shoulders jumped up, but that jolt of shock was better than the listless comfort she was getting. 

Octavia pursed her lips in thought, and it was clear enough that she was choosing her words carefully before she finally tested out her answer.

“Do you think you can explain what happened?” 

For a moment, her temper flared back to life, ready to force a reaction out of her mother. She didn’t know what kind of a response she wanted to get and she knew that she would have hated it either way, but something about the sheer lack of energy in Octavia burned deep in Chiara’s stomach. 

But just as quickly as it arrived, that anger soon found itself washed away when Chiara found no energy herself to keep it up. 

Shame quickly settled in, burning just as hot if not hotter than her anger as she shook her head silently. 

Octavia seemed to expect that answer, nodding along without a word as they were thrown back right where they had started. 

But this time, that little chip in the silence seemed to be enough to get her mother to start doing  _ something _ .

“I just want to know if that was an accident,” she said quietly. “That’s all I want to ask you.”

Chiara barely understood what that meant. Vague language did nothing to help her, but she knew that her mother was doing her best to avoid stirring up yet another argument between them.

Maybe that was for the best. Chiara didn’t know if she had the strength to go against her again. 

Octavia seemed to take her silence as a sign to keep going, straight to the heart of the matter that neither of them wanted to approach. 

“Were you going to wake up?” 

Chiara froze.

The unspoken  _ or  _ hung over that question, the alternative that they were both well aware of, but didn’t dare to address. 

For a moment, Chiara couldn’t find the words to answer her. She didn’t know how to describe everything that had happened, how to even begin to explain herself. 

But her mother wasn’t looking for an explanation now. 

Chiara nodded mindlessly, slowly working past the block in her throat in order to mumble out her answer.

“Yeah.” 

And that was all Octavia needed. 

Whatever lingering worry her mother seemed to have held onto visibly melted away, the tension that kept her in place relaxing as she nodded to herself. 

In the place of that blinding anxiety though, Chiara saw the guilt that was left behind. 

“I’m sorry, Chiara,” she said. “I shouldn’t have to ask that at all. This shouldn’t have happened.” 

She leaned forward to rest her forearms on the bed, clasping her hands together.

“It’s easy to forget that you’re not a child anymore.” She kept her voice hushed, but Chiara didn’t miss any of the tired conviction she put into those words. “I didn’t think I would need something this big to realize that though.”

Octavia fell silent for a moment, staring down at the sheets before she let out another sigh.

“I really am getting old.” 

Chiara looked over her mother, no longer the young woman that had raised her. This was someone new in her place, someone who she hadn’t thought would come to exist before.

“You are.” 

There was still so much between them, the marriage and the sentence lingering over their heads, but at least there was some form of a bridge to be made now. 

And Chiara truly didn’t know how to feel anymore. 

For her mother, she felt nothing but contempt; the neverending question of  _ why _ in the face of injustice pulsing through her head. 

But Octavia wasn’t just her mother. 

The woman before her now had taken on motherhood as her sole identity, obscuring her own history with the difference of time between them, and something about that revelation left Chiara stranded between fierce blame and mellow acceptance. 

And when Octavia crouched down and opened up her arms to carefully scoop her up in a solid hug, Chiara felt as if she had become both a child and a woman all at once. She hesitated once, hands curling up the sheets before they unclenched and reached up to clumsily return the gesture. 

“I love you, Chiara.” Octavia fell silent for a moment as her grip tightened ever so slightly. “Oh, when was the last time I said that?” 

Chiara couldn’t remember and she couldn’t find it in her to answer now. 

Maybe she couldn’t bring herself to say those words back to her mother just yet, but she still accepted them with quiet hands and that was enough for both of them.

A knock on the door cut through that moment though, the slow tapping forcing Chiara to glance over her mother’s shoulder as the door opened up and Elizabeta peered inside.

“The Queen is asking for you. She wanted to discuss-” Elizabeta’s eyes finally settled on her, blinking once before her jaw dropped. “Chiara!” 

She barely had a moment to prepare herself before Elizabeta was tearing into the room, hastily settling herself down on the other side of the bed before she leaned down to quickly wrap her up in a strong hug as well.

“You’re really here,” she whispered. “Oh my god, you’re really-” 

Elizabeta quickly straightened herself back out, hands fluttering over Chiara’s shoulders uncertainly.

“Are you feeling alright? Do you need any water?” 

It was almost too much, the sheer shock of landing straight back into normalcy, as if nothing had ever even happened. Chiara didn’t know how to respond, and thankfully her mother seemed to sense that as well.

“I think that’s enough, Eliza,” Octavia interrupted, reaching out to place a careful hand Elizabeta’s shoulder.

Elizabeta remained tense for a second longer before her frantic worry simmered down into a low concern that Chiara could see written as clear as day all over her face. 

It made her stomach twist.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that-” She paused. “We all thought-” 

Embarrassment soon flared up, burning up Chiara’s face at the mention of her failed plan. 

“It’s fine,” she mumbled hastily. For a moment, she stopped, rolling over her next phrase in her head before she finally rushed it out. “I’m sorry too.” 

And of course both Octavia and Elizabeta frowned at that, but Chiara wasn’t a fool. Consequences would come after the emotion of their reunion died down, although just this once, she could let herself forget that little fact.

“Don’t apologize for that,” Octaiva murmured. “That isn’t your fault.” 

Chiara didn’t know how to handle that, her stomach twisting in knots all while she greedily took in that forgiveness. Whatever she could have imagined to use as a response was soon wisped away by Elizabeta’s hand on her arm, squeezing just hard enough to snap her back out of her head.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay very long right now, but go ahead and call for me if you need anything, alright?” Elizabeta eased herself off of the bed and offered a small smile to them both, one nearly overflowing with sincerity. “I’ll be back soon."

Octavia’s smile returned the same amount of warmth that Elizabeta had offered to her. “Thank you, Eliza.” 

Such an instinctive response didn’t come as naturally to Chiara, but she still managed to force here head up to meet Elizabeta’s gaze. “Thanks.” 

Elizabeta’s smile still widened despite her halting phrasing.

“Of course,” she said. 

And with that, she quietly left the room, slipping out and shutting the door behind her without a sound.

The silence lasted that followed after her barely a minute before Octavia patted the bed once.

“I think that means I need to leave too,” she sighed. “Hilda’s already stressed enough. No need to keep her waiting now.” 

Chiara only nodded along, stopping when her mother lifted her hand up to pat her head. 

“I’ll come back later.” Octavia’s smile turned into something more sympathetic, more understanding than it had any right to be. “It looks like you need a little time alone too.” 

Chiara felt as if she had been completely exposed to her mother, shoulders rising instinctively to defend herself, but she was given no time to string together an explanation. 

Octavia only leaned down in order to kiss her forehead, smoothing her hair back down with a steady palm before she straightened back up. 

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out later.” 

And that little gesture managed to rip away all of Chiara’s doubts, even if the discomfort still lingered behind. 

She felt like calling out for her mother like a child again, but she knew that the second she opened her mouth, all of those thoughts would come pouring out before she could stop them. 

So Chiara kept herself quiet and watched as Octavia stood up and slowly made her way to the door.

Instead of leaving though, she paused with her hand on the doorknob, a beat of contemplation before she turned back around. 

“Marzia's in the room next to yours,” she said quietly, although she soon cut herself short afterwards. She looked over Chiara a final time and for once, Chiara saw no sign of authority being held over her as she spoke. “Isabella's down the hall.” 

And just like that, the fragile layer of caution between them shattered. 

Octavia left without another word, but Chiara barely registered the fact that she had left at all until she found herself alone in an unfamiliar room and nobody left to turn to. 

The sudden impact with reality left Chiara reeling, unsure of what to do next. The room seemed too vivid, too detailed for her to take in, so she closed her eyes and let her head fall back down onto the pillow again. 

She didn’t want to see Isabella. 

Chiara paused. 

That was wrong. 

She wanted to see Isabella alive. She didn’t know if she could bring herself to face the alternative otherwise. 

But hadn’t Isabella done the same for her? 

Chiara rolled that question over in her mind, silently musing over the choice to be made, even though she already knew what her answer was. 

She slowly pushed herself up, blinking back the rush of dizziness that threatened to send her back down. It took her a moment to regain her balance and pull the covers off, kicking her feet over to stand up.

All of her time asleep left her legs weak from disuse though, knees buckling the second she tried to force her weight onto them. Being upright for once took a while to get used to, slow steps and faltering halts marking her choppy progress. 

But eventually, Chiara managed to reach the door, bracing herself against the doorframe for a break. 

It was pathetic, how little she had left. 

She didn’t allow those thoughts to entertain themselves though, forcing them back with a firm reminder of her mission as she stepped out into the hallway. 

The stone halls were a far cry from her own home, sparsely decorated and enclosed to keep out the world beyond the walls. She glanced down the hall, faced with rows upon rows of firmly closed doors. 

Chiara knew she wouldn’t be able to make down the entire hallway to check them all, but another glance revealed a door slightly opened, showing a glimpse of the room inside. 

It was foolish, how her heart started to race then. 

There was no evidence that Isabella was behind that door, but her mind seemed to leap ahead with that conclusion regardless, screaming its caution in her head as she crept down the hallway with one hand against the wall to steady her. 

Before she knew it though, she found herself in front of the door with no time left to prepare herself. 

Cowardly. That’s what she was. 

Chiara reached out and stopped just before her hand brushed against the handle. 

She couldn’t even go and face Isabella, just like Isabella had done for her. Everything that she had given up, Chiara couldn’t return. 

The watery sting in her eyes seemed to come too late by then. She didn’t even know why she was tearing up at all. 

But she had to move eventually and to go too fast was better than to not go at all. 

Chiara shoved the door open without a second thought, not daring to slow for even a minute before her head could catch up with her body and keep her locked in place with all of those fears. 

Her blood rushed to her head, pulsing hard enough to ache as she stepped inside. She barely took in what was inside; she had to force herself to slow down in order to be able to see properly. 

She promptly froze in the doorway when she finally saw Isabella staring right back at her from the bed.


	50. The Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Romeo - Isabella Fernández Carriedo (Fem! Spain)  
> Juliet - Chiara Vargas (Fem! S. Italy)  
> Friar Lawrence - Marianne Bonnefoy (Fem! France)
> 
> Translations:  
> None for this chapter!

Chiara couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe at all. 

The memory of Isabella slumped over imposed itself over the real, breathing,  _ living _ sight in front of her, blurring the two together until she could hardly tell them apart. 

Everything around her narrowed down to that bed, to the woman laying in it. She couldn’t move, muscles locked into place to brace against the rush of uncertainty that threatened to drown her. 

All she could do was stare helplessly back at Isabella, who only returned the same amount of wide-eyed shock to throw right back at her. 

Isabella didn’t seem to be doing any better, jaw dropped as her eyes flickered over her time after time again in disbelief. She opened her mouth once and then promptly snapped it back shut, visibly struggling to find the proper words until she finally managed to find her voice again. 

“Chiara?” 

Any notion that Chiara could have been dreaming, that Isabella was just another comforting illusion she had managed to conjure up fell apart in the blink of an eye. 

Chiara dug her fingers into the handle. Everything that she had held back was coming dangerously close to spilling out now and Chiara wasn’t sure how long she could push back the inevitable fall. 

She would have been fine in the silence, if Isabella had just stayed quiet and let her process the sight in front of her. 

But of course, Isabella’s slack-jawed expression soon brightened up with a nearly euphoric amount of joy, opening up her arms with an ecstatic smile and what little reservations Chiara had left were tossed aside.

“Chiara!” 

She didn’t even have to think before she raced forward, barely able to keep her own smile from stretching painfully wide against her lips. Her body could barely contain the amount of emotion that threatened to burst from her, tearing through her veins with a jolt of energy as she climbed up onto the bed. 

“Isa-”

Her sentence was soon cut off by a sharp hiss from Isabella though, her hand darting down to her waist to stop her from moving any further. 

“Huh?” Chiara glanced down and finally saw the tightly wrapped bandages crossing across her abdomen peeking out from under her shirt. She jumped back in a flash, scrambling to tuck her legs back under her. “Sorry-” 

Sorting out her emotions became too messy of a task, swirling around her head and only snapping out of it when Isabella reached out to yank her back down until she rested on her side just next to her. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she mumbled, her eyes desperately trailing across her face as her smile widened even further. “You’re here.” 

She saw the moment Isabella realized what had truly happened, the second the meaning behind their reunion clicked for her and the ecstatic joy that leaped out of her chest in the steady beat that Chiara could feel finally broke free.

“You’re here!” 

Isabella let out a breathless laugh as her hands fluttered over her cheeks down to her shoulders, trailing endlessly with the sheer amount of energy that seemed to burst from her.

Chiara could hardly contain herself either though, bringing her own hand up to dig her fingers into the fabric of Isabella’s shirt. “I’m- you’re-” 

She barely managed to speak past the smile that made her cheeks sore, past the rush of lightness when the weight was finally lifted from her shoulders. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she muttered in disbelief, searching Isabella desperately for an answer. “You’re- I thought you were dead.” 

“I thought  _ you _ were dead!” Isabella’s voice was already starting to raise, and Chiara had to wonder how she had managed to keep herself quiet for so long. “I got Andrea’s letter and I wanted to come see you but-” 

“What do you mean you thought I was dead?” Chiara shot back, unable to control her own volume. “You were supposed to come get me!” 

Isabella looked no less confused than her though and it was all too easy for them both to lose their way from there.

“I did! I went back and-” 

“Then what the hell are you talking about?” 

Chiara didn’t budge when Isabella’s jaw dropped, although that was only because she barely knew how to respond herself.

“I-” Isabella sputtered out, gesturing vaguely towards Chiara with one frantic hand. “You were dead!” 

She wasn’t sure if she had ever managed to pull a more incredulous look in her life.

“No I wasn’t!” Chiara snapped. “I was going to wake up and you were going to get me out of here! Did you even read Marianne’s letter?” 

“What letter?” 

She studied Isabella’s face, but only found a completely blank stare as her answer.

“ _ What do you mean what letter? _ ”

Isabella understandably shrank away from her when her volume rose to a deafening screech, but the wide-eyed confusion never left her. 

“I didn’t get any letters from Marianne. Just the ones from Andrea.” 

Chiara stopped. 

“You didn’t get anything from her?” 

The wave of frantic panic and sheer lack of comprehension finally seemed to be ebbing away when Isabella slowly shook her head, a frown slowly pulling her lips down. 

“Was I supposed to?” she asked. 

Chiara’s heart nearly stopped beating in that moment because of that question. 

She searched Isabella for any sign that she might be keeping something to herself, but she only saw complete openness on her, her emotions written ever so clearly on her face. Something truly had gone wrong it seemed and Chiara had finally found the discrepancy that had marked the beginning of their failure. 

Perhaps things would have gone differently if that mistake had been addressed beforehand. 

Chiara nodded, struggling to find the energy to dip her head now that the reality of the situation had set in. “Yeah. You were.” 

That same conclusion looked like it had dawned on Isabella too, shock melting away into a bitter understanding. 

But the second she saw the flash of guilt that darted across Isabella’s face, she knew that she was going in the wrong direction with that answer. 

“I’m sorry.” Isabella murmured. “I didn’t know you had a plan.” 

Before Chiara could even get a word in though, Isabella had already pressed forward. 

“I just got Andrea’s letter and I thought-” She didn’t have to finish that thought for it to be translated properly. “I wanted to come see you again. I didn’t think about anything else. I just wanted to see you.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh, bringing her arm up to rest under her head. 

“That was pretty stupid of me, huh?” she asked, the answer clear in her tone as her lips quirked up in a humorless smile. “I could have gotten you out of there.” 

“Shut up.”

Chiara didn’t wait for the surprise to set in on Isabella’s face before she twisted her own into a harsh scowl. “I said shut up.” 

“You came back.” Chiara reached out to grab onto Isabella’s shirt once more, knotting the fabric in her hands until her knuckles started to turn white. “You said you would and you did. So shut up and stop apologizing.”

She didn’t break Isabella’s stare, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on her without a beat of hesitation. When it had become a competition to see where the blame lied, she didn’t know, but she knew she was determined to win regardless. 

She knew she was in the right. 

And maybe Isabella had finally started to believe that too when her eyes softened, a hint of gratefulness slowly creeping onto her face as she brought a hand up to cover Chiara’s own, smoothing out the barely visible tremors with a steady grip. 

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’m back.” 

Chiara had nearly forgotten that she was, lost in arguing over the mess of miscommunication between them. But now that she finally had the chance to see past those issues, to the source who was in bed with her now, the meaning of that simple phrase seemed to weigh that much more on her. 

Isabella was here, her hand gently squeezing her own to coax her painfully tight grip away and Chiara had never thought that such a simple touch could feel so warm.

“I’m back.”    


And she was. 

She wasn’t an idle daydream or a vague plan drifting off somewhere in Mantua, but back by her side, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close. 

Isabella had returned, and maybe she would have to leave later, maybe her sentence would send her away yet again, but for now, she was back and that was all Chiara could ask for. 

She barely knew that she had moved at all until it was too late, but Chiara couldn’t bring herself to be bashful about her actions when she pushed herself up in order to kiss Isabella, who only accepted her affection gracefully. 

That simple gesture shattered what little reservations remained between them, Isabella’s arms trailing up and down the curve of her back until her fingers finally settled in her hair in order to keep her close. 

Chiara didn’t waste a second to return the favor, forcing her grip to loosen enough until she could slowly start to pull her own arm around Isabella’s waist. 

After the distance that had been between them, the threat of what had kept them forced apart now overcome, Chiara couldn’t bring herself to pull away now. 

The creaking of the door forced them apart though, Chiara glancing over her shoulder just in time to catch Marianne’s surprised face. Just as soon as it appeared though, that shock melted away into relief, her tension visibly leaving her slumped ever so slightly as she stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her. 

“You’re both awake,” she murmured, eyes flickering between them both with unhidden disbelief. “How did you even manage to pull that off?” 

“I don’t know!” Isabella replied, her hands never leaving their firm positions on Chiara despite her positive tone.

Marianne studied them both for a minute, a troubled look marring her usually calm expression. Soon enough though, she offered them a wry smile in turn, and Chiara wasn’t blind to the pride shining in her eyes. “It seems like I underestimated you two then.” 

She carefully made her way over to them both, leaning over in order to swoop them both up in a swift embrace that left them all in a tangle of limbs. 

“I’m glad you both made it back safe,” she said quietly. “Even this wasn’t where you planned on ending up.” 

Chiara wasn’t quite as quick to fall into the celebratory mood though.

“The hell happened with you?” she asked, fixing her narrowed gaze on Marianne. “She didn’t get your letter.” 

She really didn’t know what kind of response she was expecting, but seeing Marianne offer up a completely drained attempt at an apologetic smile still didn’t reach the realms of surprise for her.

“Chiara, I honestly don’t know either. I don’t think anybody does at this point.” There was little Marianne could do at that point to cover up her exhaustion. “That’s why I came to get you up. The Queen’s calling for a meeting to sort this all out.” 

Isabella perked up at that, but Chiara didn’t mess the way her arms tightened ever so slightly. “And she wants us there?” 

Marianne nodded.

“She wants everybody there,” she replied, her words softening up in order to take on a new, more comforting tone. “You’ll be fine. Everyone’s too tired to think about going after each other now. We all just want answers before we move into the semantics of justice.” 

Isabella nodded along, but her apprehension still made itself evident on her expression no matter how nonchalant she tried to appear. 

“I know. Andrea came in earlier too, but-” She paused, glancing between them both for a moment before she lowered her voice. “I’m not supposed to be here.” 

Chiara didn’t say a word when Isabella’s grip grew painfully tight, only shifting to move to a more comfortable position. Marianne seemed to pick up on the same unspoken message that she was sending, leaning forward to rest a careful hand on Isabella’s shoulder.

“There were a lot of things that weren’t supposed to happen. I doubt anyone is going to try and hold those old standards to a situation like this,” she said, offering a smaller, but much more sincere smile. “You have the chance to explain yourself now. At least take it while it lasts.” 

To see Isabella well and truly at a loss twisted at a part of Chiara that she couldn’t quite name. 

She knew that Isabella wasn’t the perfect heroine back to save the day, bold and courageous as ever in the face of danger, but their time apart left plenty of room for those little idealizations to creep in. 

The amount that Isabella had given up wasn’t lost on her, but the toll that such a task would take on her somehow slipped Chiara’s mind in the process. She could hardly believe that she had forgotten that fact at all and the rush to make amends and fix that mistake swept her up before she knew it. 

She still hesitated with the presence of Marianne in the room, but eventually, Chiara managed to pull one arm out in order to rest her hand on the dip of Isabella’s waist, rubbing small circles into the fabric of her shirt in a gesture just inconspicuous enough to avoid drawing attention to it. 

Isabella jolted when she started to move, glancing down at her with unhidden shock for a moment before she gave a small smile back as her grip started to loosen into a more comfortable hold. 

The heavy flush of embarrassment still heated up her face, but the thought that she had managed to offer some kind of help kept her from retreating. 

“Might as well,” Isabella finally said. “I don’t have much to lose now anyways.” 

“Good, good.” Marianne gave no sign that she had seen the exchange between them, only turning to face Chiara with a similar look of concern. “Are you feeling alright? The stress couldn’t have mixed well with what I gave you.” 

“I’m fine,” Chiara said quietly. 

However, Isabella’s head whipped up in a fraction of a second to stare at her with nothing short of horror, a look that was quickly driven back by a sharp glare from Chiara.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who got stabbed.” 

“But-” 

“Shut up.” Chiara turned her gaze to Marianne. “We’ll be there.” 

Marianne looked between them with nothing short of sheer confusion, and she knew for a fact that the emotional whiplash they had all been through had taken its toll when Marianne let out a barely muffled laugh that would have been completely inappropriate should the situation have been any kind of normal. 

“I’d hoped you’d say that. I’m looking forward to an explanation myself.” She bowed her head to hide the few chuckles that escaped her before she cleared her throat and stood up to fix them both with a beaming smile. “I’ll be going then. You might want to get up soon if you plan on making it.” 

Her expression mellowed out into something more sincere, the brief fit of absurdity quietly leaving Marianne until all Chiara saw in her was the warm sensation of relief. 

“I really didn’t know what would happen to you two, but I’m glad you both made it out.” She rested a hand on each of their arms and gently squeezed them both. “You deserve that much, at the very least.” 

Chiara knew that to be the truth as Marianne saw it and to have some form of clarity now was nothing but a relief, even if it was still based in subjectivity. 

Marianne left as quietly as she had entered, giving them one final smile before she shut the door behind her and left behind a comfortable silence in her stead. 

She glanced up when she felt Isabella card her fingers through her hair, gently working out the knots she had barely considered in silent contemplation.

It was something straight out of the past, a gesture sweetened in the moment only to turn bitter with the reminder of the daunting future ahead. Chiara had done her best to imprint every memory of Isabella she could the night before she left out of the sheer desperation to keep her in Mantua somehow. 

But now, when the worst was behind the and the future had finally started to clear up, Chiara could finally indulge in the feeling of Isabella’s arm wrapped around her waist and the earthy scent that lingered in her clothes as she threaded her hand through her hair in order to press her close. 

There was no more need for hasty reservations now. She was free to indulge for once and that was a chance she took with open arms. 

“Are you really going to go?” Chiara’s words remained muffled by the fabric of Isabella’s shirt, but she didn’t need to be loud anyways with the closeness between them. Her words were for Isabella to hear only and she had no intention of locking away the intimacy that she had finally managed to release.

The combing through her hair stopped for a moment before it carried on with a soft kiss pressed to the top of her head. 

“I am.” Chiara could feel the rumble of Isabella’s voice against her ear, a low murmur meant to be shared for the two of them alone. “We can finally fix all of this. I can’t just give that up now.” 

Isabella leaned down in order to bury her face in her hair, carefully threading one leg between Chiara’s own in order to pull her even closer. 

“I can’t give you up now.” 

Chiara couldn’t have hoped to describe the feeling that those words sparked in her; she only knew that the effect left lighter than air, on the verge of falling apart only for Isabella to carefully gather her back up in her arms and hold her tight. 

She only nodded, pulling herself closer by her grip on Isabella’s waist. The thought of separating now was nothing but sacrilegious, and even though Chiara knew they had to get up eventually, she couldn’t bring herself to start that process now. 

Isabella was here, where she truly belonged. 

Back in Verona, back in the world above, back in the soft sheets and warmth of the day. 

Back in her arms. 

Chiara closed her eyes, warm with the rush of satisfaction that pulsed through her body with every beat of her heart when she could hear the steady rhythm of Isabella’s next to her.

In that safety though, the fragile barriers that she had put up to hold herself together just long enough to keep moving forward finally started to crumble. 

Quiet hiccups left her throat before she realized what was happening, and by then it was too late when the slow trickle of emotion finally burst into an all-consuming flood. 

She felt grateful, happy, relieved, terrified, she didn’t know where to start. But the only thing that tied them all together was the strong pulse that melted them into the steady beat that sang for Isabella, of love, love,  _ love.  _

Those muffled gasps soon turned into heaving sobs, ones that ripped themselves out of her chest until all she could do was cling to Isabella. 

But the stuttering pattern of her chest didn’t go unnoticed to Chiara either, and when she managed to lift her head and glance up, Isabella’s tear-stained face greeted her. 

“What are you crying for?” she mumbled, voice thick with the strain of speech as she brought a hand up to clumsily wipe at Isabella’s cheeks. 

“I don’t know,” Isabella caught her hand with her own and though her face was blotched red and her words cracked before she could get them out, she let out a laugh with watering eyes. “I don’t know!”

Something about that just rang so true to Isabella that no desperate fantasy that Chiara could have come up with could have captured her so perfectly. She couldn’t help herself when she burst out laughing too, a wild smile pulling hard at her cheeks until they ached as she leaned up to press a messy kiss to her lips. 

They broke apart quickly, unable to keep themselves together long enough in the dizzying swirl of laughter and tears. But as soon as Chiara pulled back, Isabella pushed herself up to meet her again and start the cycle anew. 

It was nothing like the formal kind of love that Chiara had grown to expect, but Isabella offered no ordinary kind of love to give and that unique kind of affection was something that Chiara treasured. 

When Isabella finally let her go, pulling back with a breathless smile as she rubbed at her eyes, Chiara only felt that special love crash harder into her than ever before.

“Let’s go,” Isabella said quietly, a slight hitch in her voice as she struggled to regain her composure. “We’ll fix this.” 

Chiara didn’t know how they would do it, or how they would even start to address everything that had managed to go wrong, but the conviction with which Isabella spoke gave her the hope that she wouldn’t be going alone. 

“Do you promise?” 

It was a useless question. Chiara already knew the answer long before Isabella’s face even softened enough to give her a warm smile.   


“I promise.” 

And this time, Chiara truly believed her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all thought i finally left you alone huh?? anyways, i'm sorry for disappearing for a minute! i just figured that it might be better to release all of the remaining chapters at once so i can just get this over with and forget about this, but uh this ended up taking me longer than i expected. still, we're almost at the end now and i did my best to leave this time on a good gay note while i wrangle out the ending, so i hope you guys can forgive me for the weird update schedule this fic has gone through!

**Author's Note:**

> surprise y'all i have a tumblr now. come talk to me at qionow [here](https://qionow.tumblr.com/)


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